


The Hardest Part Of This

by henley_sarah



Series: AHS Fics [1]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Anxiety Disorder, Character Death, Doctor Who References, Drug Use, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Ghost Sex, Illnesses, Lemon, Major Illness, My Chemical Romance References, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to Depression, Sex, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, Shaving, Sick Character, Smut, Spirits, Tags Are Hard, Tags May Change, Timeline What Timeline, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 21:07:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15980522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henley_sarah/pseuds/henley_sarah
Summary: I guess things were going smoothly until I was coming home one afternoon, ready to nap, and there was a blond guy just standing outside.My anxiety got to me, and I froze in place. It shouldn't be such a big deal to just say 'excuse me,' and walk by, but then again, it really was.As I was thinking about just walking around the block and wait for him to leave, he turned around and looked at me."Am I in your way?" He asked, and I blinked, not really knowing what to say."Uh, maybe?" I said, and he smiled and came over to me. Okay, he seemed sweet enough, but then again, I'd only seen him for five seconds."My name's Tate Langdon."





	1. Chapter 1

I hated moving, but not for the reason you may think.

Most people hate moving because moving means leaving home, leaving friends and family behind, it means change. And people hate that shit.

I hate moving because it takes work and I'm a lazy piece of shit.

"I don't understand why we came out to L.A. In California. Where it's sunny all the time." I said to my mom as moving men brought in boxes. "We're both allergic to sunlight, mom."

"I bought a shit ton of black sun-resistant curtains. And it's not like you go outside anyway." She shrugged and I gave a little nod.

"And yes, you're helping me hang them up." She gave me a look, and I curled my lip in disgust.

I took my dear sweet time putting my shit into a bedroom because this house had thirty-three fucking rooms. It's only me and my mom here, why did we need all these rooms? Mom says the house was way cheaper than it should be, which she was cautious of at first, but then we learned of the murders that took place here, and it all made sense. So we took it because neither of us really care of someone was killed here or not.

Some days later, a red-headed old woman with one white eye and a maid's uniform came in, saying she came with the place. Moira, she said her name was.

"Oh, I didn't know there was a maid." Mom hummed as she drank coffee and I had a can of Diet Coke. "God knows I'll need the help since my daughter hardly lifts a finger." She threw me a look.

"I know I'm a horrible person, thank you." I gave a quick smile to my mom and looked at her. "It's nice to meet you, Moira." I smiled to be polite.

"I didn't catch your names?" She hummed.

"Oh, that's right." Mom chuckled at herself. "I'm Sharon, and that's Basil."

"I go by Baz." I kept my smile on. I wouldn't want to seem rude to our maid, I'd hate myself if she thought I was rude to her.

It wasn't long until I was in school, and quickly getting attention, as I was not only the new girl but the new girl with neon green hair.

Some stuck up rich girls tried to pick on me, and I just stood in place and stared at them as others around us slowed to a halt to see what would happen.

I blinked slowly at the middle girl, supposedly the leader. "Sorry, I'm just way too tired to deal with you. Excuse me." I said, tilting my head, waiting for them to move.

They didn't, and I didn't hear half of what she said.

I just sighed again. "I said, excuse me," I said in a harder tone, now glaring. "Honestly, you're what, seventeen? Why are you acting twelve? You do realize how pathetically stereotypical you are, right?"

That got a lot of people laughing and she got mad, her two friends were embarrassed.

Turns out that scene earned me a couple of friends with people who also hated the three. People bond over hate, it's that simple.

When I got home that afternoon, I heard mom talking to someone in the kitchen. I wasn't ready to talk to other people, so I tried to slip off to my room quietly. But mom just had to go and call for me.

I set my bag down on the stairs and walked in, putting a smile on my face as I saw an older blonde woman and a brunette girl, who I think had Down's, but I wasn't sure and didn't want to make assumptions.

"This is my daughter, Basil." Mom smiled. "Baz, this is Constance Langdon and her daughter Addie. They're our neighbors."

"Hello. It's nice to meet you." I smiled, and Constance smiled at me.

"I was just complimenting your momma on her lovely purple hair, and here I find she has a girl with green hair. How colorful." She smiled back at me.

"We focus heavily on self-expression. We believe that expressing yourself is good for self-care and self-love." Mom nodded.

"How true." Constance nodded, sipping some coffee.

"I hate to be rude," I started to say, hoping I was coming off polite enough. "But my teachers were not merciful to me today, and I have a lot of schoolwork to do, so, if you'll excuse me..."

Mom dismissed me, and I gave a last smile before turning away and grabbing my bag off the stairs and going up to my room. I sighed, the pressure of speaking to other humans relieved from my chest, and I took my phone out and began to play some music, but kept the volume down so I wouldn't disturb them downstairs.

I did a bit of work, mostly focusing on filling a couple pages in my Creative Writing journal, and starting on an essay for English. I was really good with English, reading, and writing and all that, but not much of anything else. I was pretty good at science, especially Biology, kind of okay in History, and fucking awful in Math. Along with Creative Writing, I also took Economics and a Latin class, and I was forever thankful that I was alright with Latin.

"Who the fuck decided to assign a gender to a chair?" I groaned as I studied Latin vocabulary. "Why do inanimate objects need genders? They don't even have genitals." I fell back on my bed and stared at the ceiling, exhausted.

There was a knock on my door. "How you doing in there?" Mom asked and I paused the music.

"I wanna die." I sighed and she opened the door.

"Not your time. Come downstairs, I got something to show you." She said and I got up, following her down.

Mom was there for everything with me. When my mental health started declining when I was twelve and I asked for help because I knew it was wrong to hurt myself, she got me a therapist. When I began saying my suicidal and depressed thoughts out loud when I was sixteen, she turned to my therapist, who explained it as a sort of coping mechanism. So she was pretty used to me saying how I was going to kill myself, and she would turn down the idea, just to remind me that I couldn't, and even though I thought about it, I wouldn't.

She lead me to the living room where there was a large bag on the coffee table. She nodded to it, and I went over and peered in, and smiled, starting to take palettes out, inspecting each of them.

"What do you think?" She asked.

"I think I'll need a bigger vanity." I chuckled, looking at the handful of eyeliners, all the colors she got. This wasn't a cheap brand, either.

"Still wanna die?" She asked and I gave a little laugh.

"I mean, generally, yeah, but I'm good for now." I smiled and looked back at her. "Thanks."

"Course, honey." She hummed.

"But seriously, my vanity is already almost filled up, I have no idea where to put these." I pressed my lips together and heard her laugh, her laugh making me smile wider because my mom deserved to be happy after all we went through.


	2. Chapter 2

I guess things were going smoothly until I was coming home one afternoon, ready to nap, and there was a blond guy just standing outside.

My anxiety got to me, and I froze in place. It shouldn't be such a big deal to just say 'excuse me,' and walk by, but then again, it really was.

As I was thinking about just walking around the block and wait for him to leave, he turned around and looked at me.

"Am I in your way?" He asked, and I blinked, not really knowing what to say.

"Uh, maybe?" I said, and he smiled and came over to me. Okay, he seemed sweet enough, but then again, I'd only seen him for five seconds.

"My name's Tate Langdon." He held a hand out.

"Langdon? You Mrs. Langdon's son?" I asked and he nodded. "Nice to meet you, I'm Baz," I said and took his hand.

"Baz?" He smiled.

"Short for Basil. Basil's usually a guy's name, so..." I hummed.

"I like it." He just smiled, making me smile.

"Thanks," I said. "Um, you wanna come in?" I asked, deciding my nap could wait.

"You sure?" He asked and I nodded. "Alright." He shrugged and followed me up, and I unlocked the door, letting us in, and locked it back up. I dropped my bag by the stairs and continued into the kitchen.

"Would you parents be cool with you having a boy over?" He asked and I chuckled lightly.

"Mom's at work, and well, what she doesn't know won't kill her." I shrugged.

"You hide a lot from your mom?" Tate asked as he sat on the island, and I smirked back at him as I grabbed a can of coke for myself.

"Why would I tell you? Want something to drink?" I asked.

"Soda's fine." He hummed and I slid him a can before cracking open mine. "But really, you got me curious."

I pursed my lips and hummed. What could I tell him that I would be alright with someone else knowing?

"Last Christmas, my cousin got me these knuckle dusters, for self-defense or whatever, and I keep them on my keychain. She thinks it's just a decorative thing." I said and he laughed a little.

"Would she freak out over that?" He asked.

"She's a pacifist, so she wouldn't like me having a weapon, but also she wants me to be safe," I said and took a drink. "And well, if I have to punch a rapist, then I'll punch a rapist."

"You have a point there." Tate nodded.

We stayed in the kitchen, drinking and snacking, and talking about random shit. He told me about how his mom blew their other neighbor on the reg, and I told him about this girl at my school that I'm almost certain was a crackhead.

I then suddenly noticed the time on the stove. "Oh, fuck, when did it become five?" I hissed through my teeth.

"I should go before your mom gets home, shouldn't I?" He hummed.

"Yeah, she would freak about that." I chuckled, tossing his empty can away. As Tate went to the kitchen door, I realized how I was having a good time as we talked.

"Tate," I spoke up and he looked at me. "Come back tomorrow," I said with a little smile and saw him grin.

"I'll be here." He saluted before he left. I cleaned up a bit in the kitchen, then grabbed my bag and went to my room to make myself look busy, and actually get some shit done.

When I got home from school the next day, he wasn't at the front door. But when I walked in, there was a knock at the kitchen door. I smiled and unlocked it, opening up, and he stepped in.

"If I bring you up to my room, you won't try to molest me, right?" I raised my eyebrow, and he gave a small laugh and shook his head. I grabbed two soda cans and handed them to him, and lifted my bag again, going up, and he followed me.

"What do you do when you get home from school?" He asked as I kicked my boots off and sat on my bed, and he sat down, too.

"Procrastinate," I said and saw his grin. "I actually don't have much homework to do. There's something for History, but I don't care enough to do it." I sighed and took a sip of soda.

"Don't you care about your grades?" He asked and I hummed, setting my can down and lying back horizontally on the bed.

"For some classes, yeah. Others, no." I shook my head, then furrowed my brows. "Are you in school?"

"Homeschool." He said and I nodded. "All the other schools kicked me out."

I gave a little laugh. "What did you do?" I asked, just a little confused because he looked so innocent. He played with his shirt sleeves, for fuck's sake.

"Tons of things." He shrugged. "I got in a lot of fights."

"Can't say I blame you." I hummed.

"What? Do you want to fight someone at your school?" He asked.

"Not really. I'm too lazy to actually fight anyone." I smiled, looking over. "I just mean that people are so annoying in school. Everyone is annoying. Maybe it's just me, I don't know." I shrugged, not really knowing how to explain it.

"Annoying how?" He asked, lying on his stomach perpendicular to me where I lied on my back.

"Well, I'm just a person who can get irritated real fast, even by the smallest things. And school, a place stuffed to the brim with stress, and people putting pressure on others, and people just trying too hard, it pisses me off real quick." I hummed, fiddling with the hem of my shirt with my fingers. "My therapist calls it 'sensory overload' or something like that."

"You have a therapist?" He asked and I nodded. "For what?"

"My business." I threw him a smile, and Tate chuckled.

"Alright, I won't pry." He hummed with a smile.

We spent that afternoon talking about anything and everything, and I was a bit stunned at how easy it felt to talk to Tate. It literally felt like he was drawing words out of my mouth. I was comfortable talking to him.

I never let people into the house, ever, and my room was normally out of the question. But Tate had made his way into both... and I was fine with it?

I blamed it on the fact that he looked innocent and was a bit cute. Like he overrode my system or something without even trying.

I'd have to watch myself before he weasled more out of me.


	3. Chapter 3

TATE

It's been a month since Baz and her mother moved in, and a lot of us were a bit confused at their lack of fear. My mom, especially, was baffled as signs were thrown their way, and the two just ignored them.

I've spent a lot of time watching Baz, and I liked a lot of what I saw. Baz was pretty, sure, plenty interesting, but I was even more interested when her clothes came off.

She didn't wear bras half the time, and I guessed that was due to the fact she didn't have too big of a chest.

What she did have was curves, and I was most baffled and intrigued at how a girl as thin as her had such defined curves. There was a prominent dip in her waist, and she had wide hips. And, despite being tiny width-wise, Baz had some lovely thicker thighs. Not too bad of an ass, either.

And how did she dress that ass? She dressed it in lace.

I knew it was creepy, and I knew she'd kill me (if she could) if she ever found out I liked to watch her. But it just did something to me to watch her peel her jeans down those legs and reveal the lacy panties she wore that day. And she had several types of underwear, which just excited me.

She had some boyshorts, which I think she preferred, as she wore them the most. She had a lot that showed her ass, and I think she called one type 'tanga' or something like that. I recognized the thongs, and once she pulled on a G string, and I nearly died all over again.

She liked lace, or at least lace designs, but my favorite was the see-through ones. I had kept my distance when Baz showered... for a few weeks. But the temptation became too much, and I just had to look. I had to see her.

And I liked what I saw. I liked it so, so much.

I popped in when she was shaving her legs, and her wet green hair hanging over her shoulder looked so erotic to me somehow. I barely noticed when she pushed her hair over her shoulder and cleaned the razor, and picked up another one and started shaving her pussy.

That might've killed me.

I was careful to not make a noise, but how tempted I was to reveal myself to her, then put my head between those smooth looking thighs and just devour her until she screamed.

I held myself back, though, and went away to jack off in another room.

That got me wondering if she was a virgin. Do virgins shave? I had no idea. If she was a virgin, I'd be very surprised.

I'd be especially surprised when I was creeping one day when she came home, and she dug deep down into the bottom of her dresser and pulled out a pink dildo. I watched curiously as she shut and locked the door of her bedroom. She pulled the covers to the end of her bed, then kicked her boots off before taking off her jeans and panties, leaving her T-shirt on. She went to the other side of her room, unknowingly passing me, and got a towel, then lied it down. I continued to watch, wondering why she was doing that.

She checked the time, and I noted that she had two hours before her mom got home. How long did it take her to get off?

"Chill." She sighed to herself and lied back, closing her eyes. My eyes widened when she sucked on two of her fingers, and I knelt at the end of her bed when she brought her fingers down and began to slowly stroke herself.

I couldn't make myself look away. Even when I heard her soft moans as she ran her fingers over her clit, and I wanted to see how pleasured her face looked, I couldn't look away. I could feel my heart racing when she slipped a finger inside herself and easily slid in and out of that wet pussy. My breathing got even harder when she pulled it out to fit two in her.

She moaned slightly louder, and it was killing me holding myself back. I knew if I revealed myself now, she'd never want to see me again. I'd never gain her trust and have a chance to do something like this with her.

I heard how wet she was as she worked herself open, and my eyes were glued to the white fluid dripping from her and onto the towel under her.

She lifted the dildo from beside her, and I peeked up and saw her take it into her mouth, and I almost swore she was doing this on purpose to torture me. I then reminded myself there was no way she could know I was here, this close, watching her.

She removed her fingers and wiped them on the towel, then brought the dildo down and slowly worked it into her, and her moans got higher, more desperate. My pants had grown tighter, but I was worried about giving myself away, so I did nothing.

As she pumped it lightly, I got distracted for a moment, looking at the end of the dildo. There was a dial, a high to low, and I wondered why, until I realized that this dildo was also a vibrator, and my heart raced again.

What if I just...

I bit my lip and carefully reached forward, making sure I wouldn't accidentally brush her hand, and flicked the dial up just a little, turning it on as it was inside her.

Baz cried out and twitched a little, and I let out a soft sigh I knew she couldn't hear. That was one of the best sounds I've ever heard, and I loved that she continued to make them, working the dildo a little harder, her juices flowing a little more.

Only a minute or so later, she pulled it out of her and pressed the tip to her clit, and she bit back a moan as her legs shook. It was driving me crazy, and I stood back up to watch all of her.

Baz's eyes were shut tight, her mouth open as she gasped and moaned. Her hand came down and turned up the dial, and the vibrations got even harder. I watched her legs shake and tried to close, but Baz forced them back open, holding the vibrator to her. Peeking down, I saw come flowing from her, staining the towel thoroughly.

She turned off the vibrator a minute or so later, and dropped the dildo, and just lied there, regaining her breath, looking so relaxed.

Some minutes later, she cleaned herself up with the towel and put on a new pair of panties, no pants. Baz unlocked and opened her door after checking the time again. She went to the bathroom and ran some hot water from the sink, and got a bottle out of some special type of soap from a cabinet and coated the dildo after she ran water over it. She washed it thoroughly, then dried it on a clean part of the towel, then washed her hands.

I followed just out of curiosity as she went back to her room, hid the toy again, and grabbed her phone and laptop in one arm, towel in the other. She went to the kitchen, leaving the two on the counter, then threw the towel in a washer, checking the time once again.

Baz went back to the kitchen, opening her lap as she got herself some chips and a soda, and I suddenly understood what kind of stuff she was hiding from her mom, at seeing how thorough with clean up she was.


	4. Chapter 4

TATE

I couldn't get how Baz looked when she came out of my head. I tried to focus on anything else when I was over with her, but my mind would always drift back to it.

I had a wicked little idea I'd probably hate myself after for.

I waited for a day when she wore either a thong or some loose panties to bed. That day came around two weeks after I watched her, and quickly found out that she got herself off about twice a week, but not once if she had her period.

I waited until she was deep asleep, and carefully slipped under the covers. I very, very carefully turned her onto her back and dragged her panties down her legs extra slowly. Then I parted her legs and did what I've been dreaming of.

I leaned forward and gave a slow kiss to her pussy, and she shifted slightly. I smirked a little to myself and licked between her folds, getting shivers just from how she tasted.

Baz got wet rather fast, and I took my time, not wanting to wake her. I wanted to see if I could get her to come in her sleep, if possible. Besides, I was enjoying this. I had hours and hours to taste her if I wanted.

I let my tongue flick over her clit a few times, and her thighs twitched slightly. I saw her start to leak come, and I licked it up, almost moaning at how she tasted. God, she was just like honey.

I dug my tongue into her, letting it curl around as I got a good taste. I heard her sigh, and almost stopped, but she didn't wake.

Wanting more, I went back to her clit and sucked on it, and watched as her breathing got more labored, and she moved a little more. I grinned and licked up her slit again, collecting the come on my tongue and rubbed it over her clit before I sucked on it again.

I heard her cry out softly, and her fingers gripped the sheets. Her hips rolled against my face as she started to come, and when she was done, I cleaned her up with my tongue and slid her panties up her legs again.

I slipped out from under the covers and saw she was still deeply asleep. I leaned over her and kissed her forehead softly, murmuring a goodnight before I let her be.

The next morning, however, I lurked in the corner of her room and watched her wake up when her alarm went off. She turned it off and groaned, then sat up with a very confused face, staring down at her hips under the covers.

"The hell?" She breathed, and I gave a triumphant smirk.

After she got ready and left, I hung around, just waiting for her to come back.

Instead, I got my mother giving me a knowing smile.

"You always were weak to whores." She hummed.

"She's not a whore," I said.

"With how she dresses? I beg to differ." She scoffed.

"She's pure compared to you." I spat and got a glare. "If anyone even thinks about touching her, they will regret it. That includes you." I glared right back.

That afternoon when Baz got home, I planned to knock on the back door but froze when she came in, slamming the door, and took a ceramic bowl that sat by the door, and threw it, making it shatter against the wall.

She dropped her bookbag on the floor, and I saw the angry tears in her eyes as she went to the kitchen, and put a kettle with water on the stove.

My mind rushed as I tried to figure out why she was upset. Did someone hurt her? If someone hurt her, I swear...

I went to the door and knocked, becoming visible, and waited for her to open up. But she didn't.

"Baz?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "Baz, come on, open up." I tried, but still nothing.

I then sighed, deciding to half lie. "Baz, I saw you looked upset outside. Come on. Open up and talk to me."

I heard the click of the lock and smiled in relief as she finally opened the door, but didn't look at me as she turned back to the stove, trying to hide wiping her eyes.

"I'm fine." She said, though her voice broke.

"Please don't lie to me," I said, closing the door, and stepped over and reached for her arm, turning her towards me. "Please tell me." I sighed.

"It's nothing, Tate. Really." She wiped her eyes again, and I frowned. It only made me sadder as she put on a smile and made herself look okay.

"Baz, please." I sighed.

"It's nothing. I just had kind of a bad day." She shrugged. "But now you're here to make it all better. Right?" Baz smiled, and I couldn't help but smile, too.

"Right." I nodded and stroked her cheek quickly with my thumb.

She made herself tea and I spent the afternoon with her in her room, cheering her up. But when five came, and I had to go, I saw her mood drop again.

I decided to stick around, invisible, of course, and Baz got her bag from the floor and brought it up to her room. She sat nervously on the bed, and when we heard the front door open, she closed her eyes.

"Baz! What happened?!" Her mom called, and Baz flinched a little before getting up and going downstairs, obviously taking her time with it. Her mom had gathered the broken pieces of the bowl in a towel and was staring at Baz with a raised eyebrow.

"What happened?" She repeated.

"Report cards came in," Baz said softly, her head hung, and I saw her mom's face soften like it suddenly made sense.

"Show me." She said and Baz slipped a white folded paper out of her back pocket and handed it over.

Her mom looked it over, and I watched as Baz's eyes filled with tears again.

"English, Creative Writing, and Biology, you have A's. That's good. Economics, History, those are B's. Good. And Latin is a C. Those are all good, Baz." Her mom looked up. Baz kept her head down, her breathing a little shaky, and I wanted nothing more than to hug her.

Her mom looked back down and pursed her lips. "But math..."

"She wants to talk to you," Baz said, sniffing.

"Baz, have you been asking for help?" Her mom asked, and Baz didn't say anything. "Basil."

"I can't." Baz shook her head.

"You have to."

"I can't." Her voice broke.

"Baz." Her mom sighed.

"How have no idea how hard it is for me to talk to people, mom. Forget teachers, just people in general. Are you supposed to feel nauseated at the mere thought of talking to someone? Is that a normal thing? Because I don't think so, but here I am, wanting to vomit and cry every time someone says hi to me." Baz said, and her mom just stared.

"That's just with normal people, and you expect me to go up to a teacher and admit to their face that I'm too stupid to understand anything they're saying like it's easy?" Baz shook a little.

"You're not stupid." Her mom shook her head.

"I am." Baz nodded, tears now making their way down her face. "You know I am. And I'm pathetic because I can't even ask for help for anything without panicking."

Her mom sighed and set down the paper. "I'll talk to the teacher, but you're talking to Kim about this." She said, and Baz slowly nodded. "I'm also scheduling another doctor's appointment for you because this medicine is obviously not working."

Her mom then went over to a drawer, and pulled a pill bottle out, and shook some into her hand. She handed one to Baz, who swallowed it down.

"Go up and lie down before you get too dizzy and pass out." She said, and Baz silently walked out of the kitchen as her mom put the pills away again.

I went to see if she was alright and saw Baz stumble and sway a little at the top of the stairs. I was prepared to catch her, but she made it to her room and to her bed and passed out once she was down.

So there are a few more secrets than I originally thought.


	5. Chapter 5

BAZ

A few days later, things with the school haven't improved, and I had my laptop open and Skype up, waiting for a call to come in from my therapist.

When we moved to L.A., she offered to transfer me to someone here, but I wanted to stay with her. She's been with me since I was twelve, and she cares about me so much. I didn't want to lose her.

The call came, and I brought my laptop up and answered the call, her pretty face filling the screen.

"Baz, hi. How are you?" She smiled.

"Eh." I shrugged.

"Understandable. Before we start on your email, how is L.A. treating you? It's really sunny there, which I think is the last thing you and your mom would want." She chuckled, and I smiled a little.

"Yeah, I thought so, too. But she bought about a hundred black curtains to keep out the sun, so the place is pretty dark. But um, it's been alright, I guess." I shrugged.

"That's good. Anything about being the new kid?" She asked.

"A little, but it's mostly people just staring at my hair." I smiled.

"But you're pretty used to that." Kim smiled.

"Yeah, I'm used to it." I nodded.

"So, tell me about school. Same issues?" She asked.

"Same issues." I nodded. "My grades are fine in every other class, but I'm past saving in math."

"I don't believe you're past saving." She shook her head.

"I do." I sighed.

"Why's that?"

"It's my junior year, and it's nearing the end of junior year. I don't exactly have time to pick up a fucking forty..." I sighed.

"So what are you thinking?" Kim asked.

"I haven't talked it over with my mom yet, but I'm thinking about dropping out," I admitted. "Maybe I'll get my GED, I don't know, I just can't be there anymore." I shook my head.

"In math, or in school in general?" Her brows twitched.

"School in general," I said. "You remember last year when I was having trouble with my History teacher? Mom said I was becoming aggravated, not educated, and I just feel like the same is happening here. I'm not really learning anything, I'm just getting more stressed and angrier."

"I hear you, Baz. School's rough, I get that. And for people in the same place mentally as you, it can be even harder." Kim nodded. "I will support you with whatever you decide, you and your mom, but I am worried about what will happen after you leave school." She said, and my brows pinched together.

"Let's be honest, you're going to be spending a lot of time at home, alone. Your anxiety is already quite large at the scale we've talked about, and if you were to put yourself in isolation, I'm only afraid it might grow bigger." She said. "That's what it does. It feeds off isolation, quiet, and boredom."

I nodded in understanding. "How are you, anxiety-wise, Baz?" She asked.

"Not all too well," I admitted. "I have a doctor's appointment next week because the prescription I'm on doesn't seem to be doing anything."

"What are you on now?" She asked.

"Lexapro," I answered.

"What have you been on?"

"Zoloft, Prozac, Buspar, and Duloxetine." I listed.

"Right. Well, tell me when you get that new prescription." She said and I nodded. "Have you thought about any other treatment methods?"

"Mom wants me to try hypnosis." I chuckled.

"You don't believe in hypnosis?" Kim asked with a smile.

"No, I do. I just don't know if it'll work on me, if I have an open enough mind to become that open to suggestion." I said.

"Ah, I see." She nodded.

"I mean, I'll try if we decide to try hypnosis, but I can't help but think what if subconsciously, I don't let my mind open up to be vulnerable?" I bit my lip.

"That's a pretty valid concern. Anything else?" She asked.

"Mom found this flower at some organic grocery store that's supposed to be a cure-all, and I don't have the heart to tell her it's probably bullshit." I smiled a little. "Maybe it's just me, but it seems silly to think that the thing that would help me stop overthinking and stressing and being down all the time is this tiny purple flower."

"No, yeah, I see your point there." Kim chuckled.

"I've thought about smoking pot a couple times, too. Just to relax a bit." I shrugged.

"But?" She asked.

"But I don't go outside except for school, so it's not like I'm making any connections." I shrugged and she laughed a little, and I grinned.

We talked a bit more, and when the hour was up, we signed off and I closed my laptop and set it aside, feeling a bit better. I went down to get a bowl of ice cream and back up to play my music as I ate and did a bit of writing on my laptop, checking the website where I published some of my work to see how it was doing.

I had a bunch more reads and comments, and I smiled happily, glad people were liking my work, so I decided to write some more chapters and upload them.

Talking with Kim always made me feel better, no matter how dark of a subject we were talking about. I once went into a session and cried for a good forty minutes or so because we were talking about why my dad didn't love me, why he never cared about me. But by the end, I was smiling and ready for tacos. Call me crazy, but that's just a good therapist.

Some hours later, it was getting late, so I edited and uploaded the chapters pretty quickly, and went back down to the kitchen to clean the empty bowl and spoon, and back up to get ready for bed.

I had come back into my room from washing my face, and I was in a giant T-shirt and boyshorts when I heard tapping at the window. I furrowed my brows and went to peek through the closed blinds, and saw Tate sitting outside on the roof.

"Jesus!" I gasped and opened it up, stepping back so he could slip in. "You scared the shit out of me, Tate. How did you even get up there?" I asked.

"Secret talent. Aren't you cute?" He hummed and plucked the shoulder of my shirt.

"What are you doing here?" I smiled.

"I just wanted to see you." He shrugged.

"At eleven forty at night?" I raised my eyebrow and he gave a sheepish smile.

"I saw your light was still on." He said, and I rolled my eyes.

"I have school tomorrow, Tate," I said.

"Skip." He shrugged.

"Easier said than done." I laughed a little.

"No, see, I have a plan." He said, and I raised a brow. "You stay up with me, that way you'll look exhausted in the morning, and you can claim you're not feeling well." He smiled.

I pursed my lips. "Why do you want me out of school?" I asked.

"Is it so bad that I want to spend time with you?" He smiled softly, and I sighed.

"Fine. But I have a plan that requires a lot less work." I said and went over to a notebook and grabbed a pen. I wrote down a message, then tore out the page, and took a bit of tape and opened my door and taped it to the wood. I then closed and locked the door.

"Done," I said and sat on my bed. "Now I guess I'm not that tired, so I'll stay up a bit with you."

Tate beamed and sat in front of me, looking happy as can be.


	6. Chapter 6

I ended up letting Tate stay the night after I made him promise not to try any funny shit. He swore, and around two in the morning, I drifted off next to him.

When I woke up again, Tate opened his mouth to speak, and I put my hand over his mouth and checked the time. Ten in the morning, mom was already at work. So, now that I knew it was safe, I slipped my hand from his mouth.

"Good morning to you, too." He chuckled.

"Sorry. Just had to be sure mom wasn't home." I smiled. "Morning."

"What are we up to today?" Tate asked, stretching a little on my bed.

"Being lazy." I smiled. "What else do you expect from me?" I said and slid out of bed.

"True." He hummed and I went over to a drawer and pulled out a pair of sweat shorts and put them on under my shirt. "What's the point, Baz?"

"In case you haven't noticed, Tate, you're a teenage boy." I gave him a look as he followed me out of my room. "Sorry for being a little cautious."

"You're the one who let me stay last night. You're not that cautious." He pointed out as I went into the kitchen.

I narrowed my eyes at him as I put the kettle on the stove for tea.

"No, no, don't give me that look." He said and came over and hugged me. "I wouldn't hurt you, and you know that. Scout's honor."

"Sure." I nodded, deciding to mess with him just a little more. "Remind me to call the cops after I've had some tea."

"You're so mean, Baz." Tate laughed lightly. I just gave him a sweet smile.

"So, tea? Coffee? What do you drink?" I asked.

"I'll stick with soda." He nodded and grabbed a can.

"I don't eat breakfast, but if you're hungry, help yourself to whatever." I hummed, getting down a mug and choosing some tea from my collection.

Tate stayed close and sipped his soda as I made my tea, and I didn't really mind him hanging onto me.

"Right." I hummed once I turned the stove off. "Where are we being lazy?"

"Your room." Tate nodded, pulling me back to it. "Your room is warm."

"It's all the fucking blankets I have in there." I chuckled, shaking my head. When we got up, I took the sign down and tossed it, as it had done its job.

We slipped back under my numerous blankets, and Tate grabbed my laptop, and I logged in, and went to Netflix, and let him choose what we were going to watch. I pointed out some of my favorites to him and told him about a lot of the movies and shows, and he chose one of my favorite shows to watch from the very beginning.

I watched happily as we were curled up together, but I will admit, the sex scenes did get rather uncomfortable. I honestly couldn't tell if I was sensing that Tate wanted to do something with me, or if I wanted him to do something to me. Maybe both? I had no way of knowing. Maybe I was imagining things, just being affected by the sex scenes and the close proximity.

I gave a little yawn some episodes in, and Tate looked over.

"Tired?" He asked.

"I'm always tired." I hummed and slid down, leaning my head on his shoulder, keeping my eyes on the screen.

"If you fall asleep, should I turn it off?" He asked.

"I'm not going to fall asleep," I said, then blinked heavily.

"Liar." He said and tapped the arrow to go back, and closed my laptop. Tate then moved both of us down further under the numerous blankets on my bed, and I didn't have it in me to protest.

"Not a liar." I hummed, closing my eyes.

"Everyone's a liar," Tate said softly, arms securely around me.

"Are you?" I asked.

"About some things, yes." He admitted in a whisper.

"Tell me a truth," I said and heard him hum.

"I care about you," Tate whispered, and I smiled a little.

"Sap." I chuckled and settled down further into the blankets and all the warmth. "I blame you for making me tired. I'm far too comfy and warm." I sighed.

"I'm not sorry at all for that." Tate chuckled softly. "Go on and sleep, Baz. I'll be here."

"Doing what? Fighting off the monsters under my bed or in the closet?" I giggled a little.

"Sure. It's a tough job, but I'm up for it." I could hear the smile in his voice.

"My hero." I sighed and got just a little closer before I dozed off against him.

I woke up again, and Tate was still with me, and I had no idea what time it was. I was a bit hungry but far too comfortable to get up.

"Rise and shine, princess." I heard Tate say.

"No." I simply grunted, staying put.

"Baz, it's almost three in the afternoon and you haven't had anything but tea all day. Get up before I force feed you." He said and I opened an eye and stared at him.

"Jesus, you don't gotta be so violent. I'm going." I sighed and made myself sit up, working on waking up and getting downstairs.

"Sorry, you just worried me." He said and guided me so I wouldn't fall down the stairs.

"You don't need to worry about me, Tate," I said, getting myself a can of coke and drank some to get some caffeine into me before I even attempted to make food.

"I worry anyway." He said, watching as I got some bread out and put it in the toaster.

"You're probably hungry... what do you want?" I asked as I put the bread back.

"I ate earlier while you were asleep. What are you making?" He asked as I got butter and a knife.

"Toast." I hummed.

"That's hardly anything, Baz." He scolded, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm just not that hungry. Jesus fuck." I sighed, staring at him as he frowned at me.

"See, this is why I worry." He sighed.

"Who are you, my mom?" I asked, and Tate just kept frowning. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll eat better at dinner. Promise."

He held up his pinky, and I locked mine with his.

"Thanks." Tate sounded a little relieved.

"But if you start worrying about me even a little too much, I may just stab you," I warned and turned away when my toast popped out of the toaster.

"Sure you will." Tate chuckled at me.


	7. Chapter 7

TATE

February passed and the months went on, and though Baz tried to hide it, I could see she wasn't doing any better. She panicked and cried a lot more, she was a lot more irritable, too.

She finally talked to her mom about dropping out of school, and her mom said that she just had to get through June, and they'd look at options.

As the weather got warmer and warmer (it was California, after all), she showed more and more skin, driving me crazier and crazier.

I absolutely hated when my mother came over to their house in April and asked if Baz was going to prom. She knew I was watching, she was doing this to spite me, remind me that I could never take her to prom, or anywhere.

"Oh, uh, probably not." Baz shook her head, and I was relieved. "Unless someone asks me. But I can't think of anyone who would ask me." She rolled her eyes with a smile.

It was only a week later when she told her mom that someone had asked her to prom, so she was going. Her mom began talking about buying dresses, but Baz stopped her.

"Victoria's coming over Saturday with a bunch of dresses. She's letting me borrow one." She said and her mom nodded.

I was bummed, sure, but seeing her try on dress after dress made up for it just a little.

Her mom said she wasn't going to be around Saturday, to which Baz said, "church things, right." And I laughed a little when she asked if Baz has been taking her birth control.

"Mom, yes. And one, Victoria's a girl, she can't get me pregnant. And two, she already has a girlfriend. Oh, and three, like someone as pretty as she would ever want to sleep with me." Baz said, and that just appalled me.

But then Saturday came, and a tan girl with long black hair came in with armfuls of dress bags, and I sort of understood. She was very pretty, no lying there, but I still preferred Baz.

Baz helped her with the bags and lead her up to her room, and naturally, I followed, ready for the show.

"Okay, what's what?" Baz sighed when they were all hung up on door frames of her closet and bedroom door. Victoria worked the bags over the hangers, showing sparkly dresses of all colors, slim dresses, and puffier dresses.

"Any you really like?" She asked.

Baz hummed. "The giant ass blue one caught my eye, but I am also really into the black and gold one."

"We got time. Go on." Victoria said and sat down on her bed as Baz started to strip. She took a navy blue dress down and slipped it on, and Victoria zipped it up for her.

"Shit, we should've brought in the full-size mirror... why don't I have a full-size mirror in here with my vain ass..." Baz shook her head and they moved the dressed, and went to another bedroom, taking a mirror, and both of them lifted it and carried it back to her room.

"Okay. Thoughts?" Baz chuckled and Victoria gave a breathless laugh.

"I mean, you look good in it. The top's a bit loose, though, isn't it?" She hummed.

"Yeah, I've got tiny tits. Blessing and a curse." Baz rolled her eyes and reached behind her and undid the dress.

"How?" Victoria asked.

"I don't have to wear a bra most days. But I also can't hold up anything strapless." She hummed and hung the dress back up, then reached for the black and gold one. She got it on, and just to kill me more, it looked perfect on her, the slit on the side tempting me to slide my hands up her thighs.

Victoria whistled, and Baz gave a laugh. "I feel like I look like a Bond girl."

"You do look like a Bond girl. But like, an insane villain Bond girl, you know, cos of the hair." Victoria nodded.

"Thanks." Baz chuckled. "Like I'd ever fuck James Bond anyway."

"Oh my God! Speaking of fucking!" Victoria gasped and Baz looked over. "You do know what Justin's planning, right?"

Justin? Who's Justin?

Baz rolled his eyes. "We're just friends, Vic. He wouldn't dare try anything with me."

Oh, so Justin's her date...

"He has a thing for you. Baz, you are not this stupid." Victoria stared at her.

"I've already turned him down, he said it was fine that we remained friends." Baz insisted.

"Yeah, and how often do boys actually mean that?" She said and Baz paused and looked down. "Exactly."

"Look, if he tries anything, I'll tell him to back off. And if he doesn't, then I'll kill him. Simple as that." Baz shrugged.

A week later, Baz looked absolutely beautiful in the black and gold dress, her hair now a gorgeous silver instead of green. It was done up perfectly on her head, and I couldn't stop staring as she perfected her makeup, looking like a movie star, and put on her heels.

When this Justin came to get her, I got a good look at him, and sort of regretted it. He was really, really tall, and had a lot more muscle than I did. I did have one advantage over him, though. I was dead, so if he hurt her, he had me to deal with.

I waited for her to come back, as I did most days, and maybe three hours later, she did come back, but she came back with her shoes in her hand, crying.

"Baz? Baz, what happened? Where's Justin?" Her mom held her arms as she cried.

"I left him there... Fuck, I'm going to kill him. I swear I'll snap his neck." Baz cried.

"What happened? What did he do?" Her mom lead her over to the sofa, taking her shoes and bag, making her sit down, and I looked on in worry.

Baz cried a little harder. "He... he wouldn't let me g-go..." She sniffled and shook her head, refusing to say any more, but both her mom and I had a pretty clear picture in our heads.

Forget Baz killing him. I was going to kill him.

Her mom calmed her, offering to call the police, but Baz shook her head, saying she didn't want to make it a big deal. She soon went up to her room, and I got myself outside her window, getting an idea.

I tapped and she opened up, teary-eyed.

"Baz? What happened?" I slid in, holding onto her and wiping her tears.

"Prom didn't go that well." She chuckled and sniffed. "I knew I shouldn't have gone."

"I'm sorry." I sighed and pulled her into a hug, and she tightly hugged me back, bringing me a bit of comfort as I comforted her.


	8. Chapter 8

BAZ

Summer came, and I was glad but bummed at the same time. Glad because yay, no school, but bummed because I didn't pass math, so I didn't get the class credit, and I might not graduate.

So I dropped out of public school and we registered me for online school in the fall.

Tate at least was happy that now I was home twenty-four seven. I asked if he had any other friends, not sure why I had never asked before, and he shook his head.

"Really? That's sad." I pursed my lips.

"How's that sad? I have you." Tate said.

"It's sad because you have me. I'm awful, Tate." I said and he gave a little laugh and hugged me.

"You're not awful. You're amazing."

Tate and I had sort of grown closer. He liked to hang onto me, and he liked to touch me. He was always touching me, either my hand, my arm, or he was hugging me in some way. And I didn't mind it one bit. I actually liked the attention, the affection he showed me.

He flirted a little, too, and I tried to flirt back, but I really didn't know how. I considered just kissing him so we could get it over with, but when I thought about that, my nerves just ate me up.

Shit, I even considered wearing less and less for him, or just plain flashing him. My anxiety wouldn't let me make a move, so maybe I could make him make the move for me.

I knew I was gone when I spent one night biting my pillow with my hand down my panties, his face on my mind.

I blushed nearly every time I looked at him the next day.

I hated myself. I truly hated myself. Why couldn't I just do something?!

As I was internally screaming at myself, I decided that I was going to do something. I was going to force my nerves to chill the fuck out, and I was going to do something.

So the day after I decided that, we were curled up together, watching a show. These two characters were talking through their feelings, and something told me there wasn't a better time.

My hand had flown out and pressed the spacebar to pause it before I realized it, and Tate turned to stare at me.

"You okay?" He asked, and I looked over and nodded. I then forced my nerves down and leaned forward and quickly kissed him.

I pulled back and sat back again, my eyes a little wide, and I bit my lip nervously. I knew Tate was staring at me, I could see him, and I blushed and fiddled with the hem of my shirt.

"Can..." He started. "Could we maybe redo that?" He asked and I nodded.

So Tate slipped his fingers under my chin and turned my face to his. I studied his brown eyes for a moment before I closed mine, waiting for him to kiss me.

Tate touched his lips to mine softly, and I pressed my lips further against his. I felt and heard him take a shaky breath before he kissed me with a bit more meaning.

I was thoroughly enjoying kissing him. I wanted to turn over and seat myself in his lap and kiss him deeper but restrained myself.

Tate pulled back but kept close. Close enough to where I could feel his shaky breathing on my lips.

"I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Baz."

"Tell me." I breathed, wanting to know.

"You are... so tempting." Tate breathed, and I smiled a little.

"What am I tempting you to do?" I asked softly. Tate opened his eyes and looked at me.

"I want to make you so wet for me. I want you absolutely soaking for me. I want you, and myself, naked, and I want you crying out for me." He spoke lowly.

"You didn't say what you wanted to do." I just smiled.

Tate licked his lips and searched my eyes for a moment. "I think I want to start with putting my fingers deep into your pretty little pussy and make you come for me."

I leaned forward and kissed him again, and when I pulled back, I just whispered, "do it."

He sat up and shut my laptop, and crawled over me, heatedly kissing my lips, pulling on my clothes. We parted to undress each other, and I was growing excited as he gripped my hips in his hands.

"God, you're beautiful." Tate panted, and I smiled and tilted his jaw to me to kiss him. Tate rolled his hips against mine, making me moan into the kiss, and he then slipped his hand down and felt me.

"Are you a virgin?" He asked.

"Define virgin?" I breathed.

"Has anyone else touched you like this?"

"Nope," I answered, and he pushed his lips to my neck as he slipped his fingers over my clit, and I gasped a little. Tate began to bite and suck at my neck, and pushed two fingers into me, stretching me a little.

"Fuck, you're so wet." He breathed against my skin. "Tight, too. I bet you'd feel heavenly around my dick." He said lowly, giving me shivers.

Tate curled his fingers and rubbed against that sensitive spot mercilessly, making me cry out and squirm. I swore and moaned, moving my hips against his hand. He just pressed his thumb against my clit, keeping his fingers hooked in me.

I came across his fingers, and he licked them clean when he pulled them from me as I breathed heavily. Tate leaned down and kissed me softly, then just sat between my legs with his head hung.

"Tate?" I asked, wondering why he looked like that, and I made myself sit up. "Tate, what's wrong?" I asked, starting to wonder if I did something wrong if I upset him somehow.

"Baz, I... I have a confession." He started.


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Tate had finished his confession, I was staring at him, chewing on the inside of my lip hard. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"You... fucking... _watched_ me?" I spoke slowly, my voice full of venom.

"I... yes." He sighed.

I pressed my lips together tightly. "And you thought it was okay to eat me out while I was asleep, why?"

"I know it was wrong. I know it was. I'm sorry, Baz." Tate just sighed.

I nodded slowly and got up, putting on a clean pair of panties and a bra, and walked out.

"Baz? Baz, where are you going?" He asked and I heard him fumbling around as I went downstairs. I found my bag and got my knuckle dusters off my keychain, and gripped them in my fist, sliding my middle and ring fingers through the holes, looking at the spikes and checking their sharpness as I went into the kitchen, looking through my mom's professional culinary knives from when she was a chef.

Tate found me (now wearing jeans and no shirt) just as I picked up my favorite of the bunch. "Baz, what are you doing?" He asked, breathless, with wide eyes, and I looked over, keeping my face calm.

"Knuckle dusters or knife? I'll give you a choice." I asked as I stared at him.

"Baz, baby-" He tried.

"No." I cut him off and walked over. "No, don't you dare 'baby' me. Not only did you spy on me without me knowing, numerous times, now that I think about it. Actually, no. Not numerous times. Nonstop!" I yelled and he began to back up in fear.

"You fucking watched me nonstop, this whole fucking time, and you never once thought that maybe that wasn't okay? That maybe that would make me uncomfortable? That maybe what you were doing what downright sick?! Disturbing?!" I yelled and swung the knife, and he jumped back.

"It's a little funny, even. The first few days we hung out together, you said you weren't going to molest me. You said you wouldn't try anything funny with me." I gave a sarcastic laugh.

"I'm sorry!" Tate said loudly.

"SORRY DOESN'T FIX SHIT!" I screamed and glared at him, and he just looked horrified.

I then pointed the knife at him. "I'd really rather not make a mess in here that I'll have to clean up, so I'll give you five seconds to get out."

"Baz, no, please. Just listen to me-"

"I don't have to listen to a goddamn word, Tate. Five." I began counting down.

"Baz, please! I regret it!" He tried as he kept walking backward.

"Good. Four." I kept going.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen." Tate breathed.

"Don't care. Three." I just blinked.

"I'm in love with you," Tate said, staring at me when his back hit the wood of the front door.

I paused and tilted my head. "That's even sadder than me being your only friend."

"Baz..." He sighed.

"One," I said and brought the knife down violently, and it got caught in the wood of the door, as Tate had somehow just disappeared.

My lips parted in surprise, and I blinked, then grit my teeth and worked the knife out of the door, and ran my finger across the splintered wood.

I checked the knife to see that it wasn't ruined as I walked back to the kitchen and put it back in its place. I then just stood there, trying to figure out what to do with myself.

I could feel my blood pumping in my ears. Gods, I was so pissed. I also was getting a headache from being so angry, and through the tears welled in my eyes, I refused to cry.

I set down the dusters and opened the drawer with a prescription given to me ages ago that still came in handy. I shook one into my hand and swallowed it, then put the bottle back and tried to get up to my room before I passed out. It was an extremely fast working medication that made me extremely lightheaded, and then I'd just black hours for hours at a time. Quite useful for when I was panicking really badly.

I was already lightheaded at the top of the stairs, and I tried to hold onto the wall and felt myself tilting. I thought, maybe I should wait and take the pill once I got upstairs as I started to black out.

I woke up in my bed but didn't remember making it to my room. I turned my head and hissed a little at a sudden pain, and a pair of hands came to me.

"Careful there, honey." I heard my mom say. "Moira found you unconscious in the hallway, she called me right away. What happened?"

"I didn't make it to my room in time." I sighed.

"Oh." Mom breathed. "I guess you hit your head pretty bad on the way down. We should check if you have a concussion. Come on, sit up." She said and helped me up, then ran me through all the basic concussion tests, and deemed me fine.

"How you feeling?" She asked.

"Starving," I said and she gave a little smile.

"Hashbrowns and eggs?" She offered, making me smile softly.

"Yeah," I said and she kissed my forehead and left my room. I worked myself out of bed and put on some clothes before I went downstairs.

"What happened to the door?" Mom asked when I sat down.

"Hm?" I looked up.

"The front door, there's like a... mark in it." She nodded over to it. I decided to half lie.

"Justin came to visit," I said and she whirled around and stared with wide eyes. "I almost stabbed him. Got the door instead."

"Atta girl." She nodded and turned back around as she cooked the hashbrowns. "Which knife?" She asked, and I didn't know the names of the knives, so I pulled it out.

"Chef's knife? Ooh." She chuckled, and I just smiled.

"It's my favorite out of the bunch." I shrugged and slipped it back.

"Reminding me of favorites..." She hummed and set down the spatula, and got a glass and a pitcher from the fridge. "I whipped this up for you today. Thought it might help you wake up a bit."

I smiled as she put a little ice in and filled the glass with peach sweet tea. "How much sugar?" I asked.

"Far too much. About eighteen or twenty tablespoons." She hummed and I took a sip.

"Perfect." I smiled.

Her nose just crinkled as she turned back around to finish up with the hashbrowns, putting loads of black pepper on them.

"I don't know how you can drink that stuff, it'll rot your teeth right out of your head." She shook her head, and I continued to smile. "And I'll bet you that right after you're done with the eggs and hashbrowns, you'll go right for the ice cream, won't you?"

"Don't act so surprised. My sweet tooth ain't nothing new." I laughed.

"How you've avoided diabetes this long is beyond me." She hummed and I took another sip.

"Thanks, mom." I sighed, rolling my eyes.

Once she fried up a couple eggs, keeping the yolk runny, she slid them on top of the hashbrowns on a plate and handed it over with a fork.

"Soup's on." She said.

"This ain't soup." I hummed as I cut into the side of an egg.

"Don't get smart," Mom warned, and I glanced up and looked away, pursing my lips, and she laughed a little.

"Yeah, that's damn near impossible for you, ain't it?" She said and I sipped some tea after swallowing that bite.

"I miss Virginia." I sighed.

"I know." Mom hummed. "You know, Constance over there is from Virginia, too. Born and bred, just like us. We can have her over and drink our tea and talk shit about everybody we know."

"Sounds good." I smiled with a small laugh.


	10. Chapter 10

Mom invited Constance Langdon over the very next day. We sat in the living room, me with sweet tea, Mrs. Langdon with hot tea, and my mom with coffee.

We soon learned that Mrs. Langdon was an even better shit-talker than my mom and I. That being said, I didn't do much talking at all. Talking to people still scared the shit out of and set me on edge, and I wasn't finding it easy to even be in the same room as Tate's mother.

"Now, not to turn to you, Basil, my dear, but I do think I saw a boy running with his tail between his legs, didn't I?" She asked.

"You did." I nodded and took a sip of tea.

"Baz could make the devil himself turn tail and run." Mom said. "Got her father's temper, she has." She said, and I let my eyes fall to the carpet.

"Her father's mother once told me that all children from that bloodline are angry. Catastrophically, biblically angry. Says it's a sort of family curse, it's in the blood and whatnot." Mom waved her hand. "But she was superstitious anyway. She spoke in tongues, even."

Mom then ran out of coffee and went to go make herself some more. I raised my head to look at the wall, seeing Mrs. Langdon watching.

"Don't look it, do I?" I hummed.

"Look like what?" She asked.

"Much," I said, then turned to look at her.

"Basil, listen, there are some things you need to know about Tate." She turned to face me.

"Are you trying to make me forgive him?" I asked.

"No," She said. "But you still need to know."

She then moved over and took my hand to hold it. "Basil, Tate is dead. He's been dead for a long time."

I stared at her for a moment, then blinked. "Sure. Okay. I'll bite. Why do I care?"

She opened her mouth, and I then stopped her, having an idea. "Let's play a game." I smiled, then sat back on the couch. "Yeah, let's play a game."

She just stared at me and I turned to face her, sitting sideways on the couch. "People lie, everyone knows it. And the more people talk, the more they lie. That's all words are; lies. Let's keep you honest with your words, Mrs. Langdon. I'll ask questions, you'll limit yourself to one-word answers. Understand?"

"Yes." She said, and I smiled.

"Good. When'd he die?" I asked.

"Ninety-four."

"How'd he die?" I sipped my sweet tea.

"Shot." She said, then looked like she didn't use the right word.

"Shot... multiple times?" I said and she just nodded and drank some tea. "So he was gunned down. By police?" She just nodded again. "What'd he do?"

"Murders." She whispered.

"More than one... where?"

"School."

"Oh, don't tell me he was a school shooter. Well, that earns him points." I scoffed and drank more tea.

"Fault." Was all she said, and I looked over.

"Who's fault, then?" I asked in disbelief.

"House." She said and looked up, meaning this house.

"How in the hell is it the house's fault that he shot up a school?" I asked, and she opened her mouth, then closed it and held up her finger as she thought. I decided to go ahead and give her time and drank more tea.

"Susceptibility."

I just stared again, trying to figure out what the fuck she meant.

"You mean the house has influence?" I asked and she nodded. "How? And if you dare say it's haunted..."

She opened her mouth as she searched for a word this time.

"History."

I breathed a little hard through my nose. "So you're telling me the house has influence, has a history of making people susceptible. You're telling me this house got to Tate, made him kill a bunch of kids, which you now believe is a viable excuse."

I paused for a moment and tilted my head at her. "You think all that's some sort of an excuse to make me forgive him?"

"No." She shook her head.

"Good, because I'm not forgiving him. I don't give a shit how many people he's killed, I don't give a shit if he's dead. He hurt me. He broke my trust. That's what I give a shit about." I hissed.

Mrs. Langdon sat there for a moment, thinking. "Apologies."

It was my turn to look at her, a little breathless, no idea how to respond.

"Tate." She hummed.

"He's spoken to you," I said.

"Yes."

"Is he hurt?" I asked even softer, and she gazed at me.

"Terribly."

I was about to say 'good,' but the word got caught in my throat.

"Love." Mrs. Langdon said before sipping her tea.

My head snapped over. "You cannot possibly think I love him. This was not a one-time thing, where he spied on me once. This has been going on for months. This has been nonstop. So, there is no excuse that you or he, or anyone, really, can give me that can justify anything he did. I don't care if you said he was fucked up in the head beyond repair. That doesn't justify shit. So don't you even try to bring up love, as if that has anything to do with anything. As far as I'm concerned with Tate, I hate him. He's lucky I still even say his name as there are people who have done less to hurt me, and I refuse to even say their names. I don't love him. I hate him, and I'd kill him all over again if given the chance." I hissed.

Mrs. Langdon just smiled at me and chuckled a little. "Words."

I froze and sat back on the sofa in defeat.

"Conflicted?" She asked.

"Yes," I sighed.

"Why?"

I took a minute to think of a fitting word. "Weakness." I looked at the floor.

The two of us just sat there quietly, Mrs. Langdon sipping her tea, me just sitting and staring into space. Mom finally came back and she and Mrs. Langdon picked the conversation back up like it was nothing.

I excused myself, taking my empty glass and put it in the sink before going up to my room, missing all the creaky spots on the stairs. I kicked my shoes off and sat on my bed, fiddling with my phone in my hands, not really doing anything with it, just messing with it as I thought.

There was a knock at my door, and I just said 'yeah,' in a monotone voice. It opened and I looked up and saw the last blond I wanted to see.


	11. Chapter 11

"No," I sighed, shaking my head. "Get out."

"No. I want to talk to you." Tate said, stepping in and closing my door.

I looked away with a huff. "Thanks for contributing to how fucked up our country is."

"Really, Baz? Can you stop acting like you hate me?" He sat on my bed but still kept his distance.

I shifted my eyes and glared at him. "Do you really not understand how bad you hurt me? Tate, how the fuck am I supposed to feel safe in my own room when you're popping in and out whenever you please, watching me all hours of the day?"

"I know. I know what I did was horrible, unforgivable. I'm not looking to be forgiven, Baz." Tate sighed, and I kept quiet, just watching him. "I don't deserve forgiveness, I know that. Just... don't act like you hate me."

"Fine," I said and he looked hopeful. "I very incredibly dislike you."

"You trying to convince me or yourself?" He asked, and I kept staring. "I was listening as you were talking to my mom."

I just narrowed my eyes and he sighed. "Fine, keep denying. Let me explain a few more things, though." He said and lied back.

"You remember ages ago when we were watching that show you like, and you got tired? You made a joke about me fighting off the monsters under your bed, and I said I would?" He looked over, and I just blinked, not responding. "That wasn't even a joke. I'm not the only spirit in this house. There are tons of us here."

"And they want me dead?" I rose an eyebrow, half sarcastic.

"It's called the Murder House for a reason, Baz. Once you move in here, it's about a ninety percent chance that you will die here. And then you get stuck here forever." He sighed.

"Hm. Sorry." I just hummed.

He gave me a little look and just continued. "When you and your mom first moved in, we were all pretty confused why you were ignoring all the signs the house was throwing at you. You never got scared, never questioned anything. Some of them wanted to take matters into their own hands, just get your deaths over with, but I made it known that if anyone even thought about hurting you, they'd have to deal with me, and I killed most of the people here." He gave a shrug.

"My fucking hero." I sighed, looking away.

"You're welcome," Tate mumbled.

I just rolled my eyes at him and shook my head lightly.

"You're not even going to act thankful?" He asked.

"I'm not thankful." I sighed. "You've got a nice guy complex, you know?"

"A what?"

"A nice guy complex. You think that because you did some things for me, was decent to me sometimes, I should be with you. And you think that when you fuck up, I should just forgive and forget because you did all those other good things." I then gave him a little smile. "I'm not obligated to do shit, Tate."

"Baz, no." He sat up again, shaking his head. "It's not like that, I swear."

"Sure as shit seems like it." I scoffed.

"I care about you!" Tate burst and I met his eyes, deep brown and watering. "Fuck, Baz, I care so much about you! Every day, every fucking day, I check if you've taken your medicine. You have no idea how much I stress because of how you eat. You hardly eat anything, Baz, and when you do, it's just junk. Baby, I don't care if you're not hungry, you need to eat better." He moved closer and took my hands in his, and I tried to pull back, but he didn't let me.

"Tate, let me go," I said.

"No, listen to me." He tried and put his forehead on mine. "I care about you so, so much, baby. More than I've ever cared about anybody, anything else. I hate that I can't do anything to make you less anxious, to make you less sad. I hate watching you go through prescription after prescription because none of them help you. You have absolutely no idea how much I hate it when you say you want to die, or that you'll kill yourself, or even that you hate yourself."

He laced his fingers through mine, and to my surprise, I let him. "I hate myself for what I did to you, and I'll forever be sorry for it. I'll do whatever it takes to make up for it, to help you feel safe again."

I opened my mouth, prepared to make some smartass comment about how he could help me by staying away, but it got caught in my throat, and I felt my chest tighten as my eyes filled with tears.

Tate hugged me, and I cried into his shirt, holding on, though everything in me told me to push him away.

When I calmed, I put my head on his shoulder and just stared at the wall as I breathed. Tate still held onto me, pressing kisses to my hair, trying to comfort me.

"I have a question." He said softly, and I just hummed. "Downstairs with my mom, when she asked why you were conflicted, you said 'weakness.' Why?"

I took a breath, still staring into space. "Because I know people who've been hurt worse and forgiven those who hurt them, and they nine times out of ten regret it. And every single one of them has said they were just too weak to not forgive."

I closed my eyes and breathed again. "I don't actually hate you, though I'd like to. It would make things a lot easier if I did hate you. Then I could make myself not care about you. Then I wouldn't think myself so pathetic for not wanting to lose you. I wouldn't be scared of being weak."

Tate rubbed my back, and I squeezed my eyes shut, a few more tears leaking out. He murmured that he was sorry numerous times, still pressing kisses to my hair.


	12. Chapter 12

After a month and a half or so, I became to become comfortable with Tate again. He didn't ask to stay the night with me, he'd knock before coming into my room, he just overall made an effort for me.

He told me about the other spirits in the house, too. Stories of when they moved in, when they died, how they died, all that.

"They're all in the basement if you wanna meet them." He said one day.

"I'm not a white person in a horror movie, so I'm gonna pass." I smiled. "But Moira's really dead?"

"Mhm. My mom caught her sleeping with my dad. Shot her in the eye." He nodded.

"Oh... she comes with the house... I get it now." I nodded slowly.

"Do you really not mind the fact that I'm dead?" He asked, now looking a little nervous.

I reached over and took his hands, turning them over in mine, and I felt that they were warm.

"I mean, it's a bit weird if you think too hard about it. But you're pretty solid, my hand's not passing through you or anything." I said and pushed on his chest a little. "You're not rotten and gross, and you're surprisingly warm."

"Surprisingly?" He asked.

"Dead people are cold, Tate. No blood pumping through their veins. But again, you're not a zombie or something. You're not reanimated. You're a spirit." I pinched my brows together, then sighed. "I'm just not gonna think about it too hard."

Tate chuckled a little, his hands still in mine as we sat facing each other on my bed.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" I asked, biting my lip.

"How well would that have gone? Hi, I'm Tate. I think you're really pretty. By the way, I'm dead." He said and I gave a small laugh.

"I guess you're not wrong." I hummed. He raised our hands and laced our fingers together, and I studied what it looked like for my hand to be held by another person.

"You are really pretty, you know," Tate said, and I gave the tiniest smile.

"Thanks,"

"I mean it, Baz. You're beautiful." He kept going, and I stared at him, wondering where he was going with this. "Even when you don't have all that makeup on, even though I know you think you look better with it, you're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

"Thank you...?"

He sighed a little. "Beautiful girls like you shouldn't be so sad." Tate looked at me again. "Why are you so sad?"

I couldn't help but glance at the pill bottles on my nightstand. "Tons of reasons. Kind of hard to explain." I sighed softly.

"Try?" He asked me softly, and I refused to look at him. Keeping one of our hands joined, I got out of bed, and he followed me downstairs and to the kitchen, where I went to the freezer and got a tub of chocolate ice cream out from the freezer. I opened and grabbed two spoons, handing him one, and sat with him, gathering my thoughts.

"You ever wondered where my dad is? Why it's just my mom and me?" I asked.

"Well, yeah, but I didn't want to ask." He admitted. "Your mom's talked about him some."

"We don't talk about him, really." I hummed, keeping my eyes on the ice cream. "He wasn't a good man. Mom kicked him out when I was three. He died when I was fourteen, thank God."

I could sense Tate's confusion, and I looked over. "Your parents love you, right?"

"Yeah." He said with furrowed eyebrows.

"Through thick and thin, they love you. That's what parents do." I said and looked back at the slowly melting ice cream. "My dad didn't love me. He didn't want me. He's said quite a few times that my birth was a mistake, I should've never existed." I nodded slowly and ate a spoonful as Tate just stared.

"So, years of thinking that someone who was supposed to unconditionally love me didn't give a shit about me, well, it kinda fucked me up. Got me thinking shit like, 'if he doesn't love me, how could anyone love me' when I was twelve." I said. "I don't think anything hurts more than feeling unwanted."

I then looked back at Tate, who just looked heartbroken for me. "So, yeah. That's a reason. Probably the biggest reason, if we were to put them all on a scale." I shrugged and went back to eating ice cream.

"There's more?" He asked, and I gave a little smile.

"Everyone's got baggage, Tate," I said with a little shrug.

Tate set down his spoon and hugged me tightly, shocking me a little. "Oh... okay," I said in surprise and laid a hand on his head. He didn't do anything but keep hugging me, and I just kept a hand on his hair, setting my spoon down in the ice cream.

"I'm okay, you know?" I asked.

"Sometimes you're not." He said softly.

"Well, I am right now." I tried.

Tate sat back up, keeping his hands at my waist, and brought his face close to mine, staring deep into my eyes.

"I love you," He said softly.

"I kinda get that," I said, then cursed myself for being a smartass.

Tate's face broke into a smile, and his forehead touched mine. I found myself wanting to kiss him, so I held onto his shirt and closed my eyes as I tilted my face up a little, meeting his lips.

Tate was still for a few seconds before he began to kiss me back, keeping it soft and sweet. He didn't push to make it deeper, which I appreciated, but I still got butterflies in my stomach and enjoyed it when I felt his tongue trace over my bottom lip.

Then the front door started to open, and we broke apart. I checked the time, seeing it was five thirty. I took his spoon and tossed it in the sink, and he whispered he'd be upstairs before vanishing.

Mom came in and I called a hello to her, acting as if nothing had happened.


	13. Chapter 13

Summer ended, and I was finishing up my senior year of high school online at home, which Tate was super excited about. He told me he hated waiting every day for me to come home from school, and now I never had to leave.

"That's obsessive." I hummed, and he just laughed.

As I was only taking three classes to get my last few credits, I didn't have much work to do. I quickly got a lot of work done to get me ahead, so I'd have a lot of free time before due dates. Tate found it amusing how I'd do the work on my laptop but Google the answers to stuff on my phone. He found it even more amusing I downloaded a math app to help me cheat in math so I'd pass this year.

"I fucking hate these stupid ass videos," I whined, scrunching up my nose at my laptop. Tate sat behind me with his arms around me, as he had promised to keep quiet while I was working so I could get shit done.

"Skip them." He hummed against my shoulder.

"Would if I could, but I can't. The website the school uses makes it so that you have to watch the entire thing." I rolled my eyes. "Annoying. Honestly, their voices are annoying." I hit the mute button with a groan.

"Do you think my voice is annoying?" Tate asked, holding me a little tighter as I turned the captions on the video.

"No," I said.

"Do I ever irritate you?" He asked. "I know you get irritated easily, usually by other people."

I didn't answer, and that was his answer. His hold loosened a bit, and I turned my head to look at him.

"It's not your fault," I said. "It's never your fault. Never anyone's fault really. It's just me being... dumb." I sighed.

"You're not dumb." He kissed my cheek. "If you want me to shut up, just tell me to shut up."

"That's mean, no." I smiled a little as the video finally ended so I could get the math work over and done with.

"Well, I'm not a mind reader, and I don't want to irritate you, so that's our only option." He chuckled in my ear, and I tried not to laugh as I typed an equation into the app on my phone and chose the right answer.

"Not gonna happen, Tate." I hummed. I got through that math lesson, and closed my laptop and set it aside, then turned around to face Tate, and he just let his arms stay loose around me.

"That's all the work I have to do for the rest of this month, so what do you want to do?" I asked.

Tate hummed for a long time, and I raised my eyebrow. "Do you really not have any ideas, or do you have ideas, you just don't want to say what they are?"

"The second one." He gave a sheepish smile.

"Let's hear 'em, then." I waited.

"No, you'll hate me." He frowned.

"Tate." I sighed and he just closed his eyes, looking away. "Tell me."

"No, Baz." He said, and I frowned a little.

"Fine. Guess we'll never know if we had the same ideas or not..." I hummed and he snapped back to stare at me.

Tate stared at me for a moment, then sighed, and ran his hands up and down my sides. "I want to be with you, I really do. But we sort of rushed into it last time. I mean, that was our first kiss, and three minutes later, I was fucking you with my fingers."

"So you wanna go slower?" I asked to make sure, and he nodded. I smiled a little. "Okay. I'll agree with that. But my question still stands. What do you want to do?"

"Right now?" Tate asked and I nodded, eyes on his as he brought a hand up to my face. "Kiss you."

I closed my eyes and let him kiss me, bringing my arms around his neck and brought us closer together. Tate took his time, which I didn't mind, especially not when he took a while to lick over my lip, which made me shiver.

I let my lips fall open and I took initiative for a while, licking my way into his mouth, teasing his tongue with mine. I didn't really realize how badly I was craving the affection before now.

We parted for a moment, and Tate turned us and lied me back on my bed. Both of us were breathing a little harder, and I sighed contentedly when his lips met my neck. He kissed down to my collarbones and made his way back up to my lips. I held his cheek as he deeply kissed me, and I hated myself for wanting more right away.

Tate seemed to have the same thought, as he shifted and his hips brushed against mine slightly. I gasped into his mouth and continued to kiss him, my hands now in his hair, keeping him close to me.

His hips dug further into mine, and I moaned a little, encouraging him, letting him know it was alright. Tate continued to kiss me as he rolled his hips against mine, and moved his lips to my neck and sucked on some skin there, making my heart race.

I felt him harden up, and he didn't really seem to notice, but when he did, he pulled back with a pant.

"Shit..." he breathed. "Sorry, Baz."

"Sorry? For what?" I was confused, and he looked away, and it clicked. "What? For getting hard? Tate, you don't have to be sorry for that, it's fine."

"It's not." He shook his head. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable, Baz..."

I propped myself up on my elbows and turned his face to look at me. "I'm not uncomfortable."

He bit his lip as he looked at me and sighed. "Why do you have to tempt me?"

"It's a bit fun if I'm being honest." I grinned. "And I'm also not letting you get blue balls. I know that can get painful." I hissed between my teeth.

Tate held back a laugh and met my lips again. "If you want me to help, ask," I mumbled against his lips.

Tate turned us over so I was on top of him. "You really don't mind?"

"Not one bit." I smiled and kissed him again, starting to grind myself down, feeling the bulge in his jeans under the thin material of my track shorts. Tate gasped and groaned into my mouth, letting me know what he liked, and I kept it up until one of his groans broke, and he breathed deeply, and the bulge went down.

I climbed off him, and he sat up and kissed me softly before saying he was going to clean up. I just smiled and lied back on my bed, scrolling through my phone as I waited for him to come back, ignoring my racing heart at the excitement of what I just did.


	14. Chapter 14

I was in the shower shaving my legs when I heard the door creak open over the music I had playing from my phone, and I was about to ask who was there, then the music turned off.

"Don't freak out, it's just me." I heard Tate say, and I sighed loudly.

"The fuck are you doing in here?!"

"Got bored." He hummed.

"Jesus fuck, Tate." I sighed. "You do know I'm showering, right?"

"I'm not peeping, I swear." He said.

"You nearly scared the shit out of me, I could've cut myself." I sighed, bending down to finish shaving my legs.

"Sorry... wait, cut yourself?" He asked.

"Kinda holding a razor here." I hummed.

"Oh," Tate said. "Hey, um, weird question, hit me later if you want, but how do you shave your...? You know."

I furrowed my brows as I rinsed my leg off and started on the other one. "Carefully," I said.

"You ever cut yourself there?" He asked.

"I've actually never cut myself anywhere. I consider it a hidden talent." I snickered.

"Isn't it nerve-wracking, though? That you could accidentally cut yourself there?" Tate asked.

"Not for me, it isn't." I hummed, finishing up with that leg, and rinsed it off.

"I just... I guess I don't understand how, really." Tate hummed, and that gave me an idea as I cleaned the razor and switched it out. I lathered up the stubble with soap, then gathered my nerves, then drew back the curtain.

Tate looked very surprised at me, even more surprised when I waved him over. He knelt before me, and I wet the blade and tapped it off, then did one side.

"Quick little strokes, see?" I hummed, seeing the gleam in his eye. I swallowed my nerves and rinsed off the razor, then handed it to him.

Tate held it and just stared. "What if I..."

"I trust you." I gave him a smile. He nodded and repeated what I did on the other side, then went down the middle, cleaning the blade off every once in a while.

I parted my legs a little wider where I stood and told him how to do those parts, and he followed my instruction, going slow, careful not to slip and cut me. When he finished up, I rinsed myself off and cleaned the razor and put it back.

"You're done?" He asked, and I turned the water off. Tate then reached for me and pulled me to stand in front of him again. His eyes traced me, and they looked needy.

"Can I? Please? I want to taste you." He said, his breathing a little uneven.

I nodded, and he immediately attached his mouth to me, gripping my hips in his hands. I gasped out and held onto him as I nearly slipped, and he pulled back and helped steady me.

"Sorry. Okay, here..." He hummed and got a towel and lied it down on the bathroom floor. He took my hand as I stepped out of the tub to lie on it, and Tate looked so excited as he parted my thighs and brought his face down.

I gasped again as he licked over me, and I'd be lying if I said having him shave my pussy didn't get me wet.

Tate groaned against me. "You taste so good, Baz..." And he worked his mouth a little harder.

I had my fingers in his hair, tugging as I moaned. I was trying to keep my hips still, but it was hard as they wanted to grind against his face. His hands stroked my thighs, keeping them open.

I cried out when he licked across my clit, then began to nibble on it. I let my back arch, my hips rolling a little, and he kept the attention on my clit, getting me closer and closer.

When I started to come, he traded his tongue for his thumb, which rubbed hard onto my clit as he licked across my entrance as I came. He rubbed me through that, and continued to, building up another orgasm in me very quickly. My legs shook and my thighs tried to close, but he wouldn't let them, and drew another orgasm from me, licking it all up.

This time, he let me go, and I panted against the towel on the floor, blissed out, but something in me wanted even more.

Tate helped me up, and I surprised him by kissing him deeply, taking his shirt in my fist.

"You want more, baby girl?" He chuckled against my lips, and I nodded. "To your room, then."

I pulled back and jumped putting my legs around his waist, and Tate caught me. I was almost worried he wouldn't be able to carry me, and then I remembered how small I actually was.

He carried me to my room, and he kicked the door shut and then pressed me to it, kissing me hard and grinding his clothed crotch into my core, making me moan and tug at his hair, which I soon found out he loved.

He took me to my bed and worked on getting his jeans undone while I pulled his shirt up. Once he was in his boxers, he ground down against me again.

"What- what are we doing?" I asked breathlessly, and Tate paused.

"Didn't think that far ahead. Uh," He looked around, then pushed his boxers down, and turned us so he sat by the headboard, and brought me to him, sitting on his thighs with my thighs parted.

He brought me in for a quick kiss, then held two fingers in front of my lips. Understanding what was happening, I opened my mouth and sucked on them for a moment, using my tongue to get them properly wet.

Tate pulled his fingers from my mouth and dropped them down to my lower lips, which he began to stroke. I let my lips fall open, and he slowly pushed two fingers into me.

"Spit in your hand." Tate hummed softly, and I gave him a little look. I glanced down at his tip and saw him leaking precome. I swept up a little on my finger and licked it off before licking each of my fingers, then spat in my palm and began to slowly stroke him.

"Oh, fuck..." Tate breathed heavily, his head falling back a bit. "That was really hot, babe."

That made me smile. "You think so?" I watched him nod, and he curled his fingers and stroked my G spot, which made me gasp and fall forward a little before I caught myself. I stroked him a little harder, a little faster, and was rewarded with a glorious moan.

"Ever given a handjob before?" Tate asked. I learned that he liked to ask a lot of questions outright, especially if they would embarrass or make uncomfortable the one being asked. The only exception was if the question made Tate himself uncomfortable. That didn't really work on me, though, and I'm not entirely sure why.

"Only in my dreams." I hummed, now working to get him as close as he made me.

"Yeah? Who do you rub one off for in your dreams?" He asked and I only gave a smirk, deciding to be a tease.

He pressed his fingers forward a little harder, his thumb now pressing down on my clit, and I gasped and shuddered, biting my lip to hold in my moans from the unbelievable pressure that made me want to burst.

"Oh, look at you dripping all over my fingers. Who?" He asked again.

"Thomas Shelby." I gasped, my hand now sliding on his dick rather fast now.

"Thomas Shel-" Tate cut himself off and gave me a look as I grinned. "You think you're so cute."

"I know I'm cute," I said before he made me moan loudly. I came across his fingers, trembling, and his come spilled down my hand not long after.

Tate kissed me hard and pulled back, keeping close. "Try that jealousy shit again. I dare you."

I just gave him a knowing smirk. "You won't hurt me," I said, and he turned away with a huff and got a few tissues from my nightstand for us to clean up with.

"I'm serious, Baz. Don't." He gave me a look, and I saw he looked a little hurt.

When I was done cleaning my hand, I moved up a little in his lap and put my arms around his neck, and tilted up his face to look at me.

"Talk to me," I said softly.

"I just..." He sighed. "I'm worried that someone else will take you from me. Someone alive who can take you on dates and get you things and shit. You deserve someone like that."

"But I don't want that," I said and he looked at me like I was crazy. "I don't leave home, Tate, I don't go anywhere. I'm not exactly meeting people. Going outside scares me too much to go on dates, and come on. With my anxiety-ridden ass, you think accepting gifts is the easiest thing? I have no idea how to say 'thank you' properly." I said and Tate gave a little laugh.

"So, with all of that, you're perfect for me. You've got nothing to worry about." I smiled softly and ran my fingers through his hair.

Tate brought my chin down and kissed me sweetly, letting me know everything was now alright.


	15. Chapter 15

The first few days in October, I finished all my school work for the entire month, and then went a little overboard and did all the work due until Thanksgiving break. Oops.

Tate got super excited because my mom mentioned my birthday, which was on the seventeenth, two weeks before Halloween. So Tate was excited for my eighteenth birthday, and he explained to me that he could wander around on Halloween, as he was a spirit, so he planned to take me out.

"Wait, so that ghosts wandering on Halloween shit is true?" Was all I got out of that.

I told Tate that I didn't care how old I was, I would still dress up for Halloween, and if he was spending Halloween with me, he was dressing up, too.

"Well, what are you going as, then?" He asked and I paused.

"I... have no fucking idea." I hummed and went deep into thought.

"Are you one of those girls who dresses like a skank on Halloween?" He asked.

"Hey. We don't slut shame in this house." I scolded him. "And no. It's the end of October, it's cold. I don't wanna freeze my tits off."

I got to thinking hard and ended up having to actually leave the house to check out the Halloween store and a Hot Topic, where I found one of the best things ever, I immediately bought it. When I got back home, I was super excited to try it on.

I tossed the bag on my bed, startling Tate, and went to my closet, fumbling around in the back for the wigs I stored back there.

"You seem excited." He said.

"I found one of the best things I've ever seen, and I know what I'm going to be for Halloween." I grinned and stood up as I found the long, curly white wig.

I set it down and dug in the bag, pulling out the leather mask excitedly.

"Kinky." He hummed, and I frowned.

"I mean, a little, but that's not it. You've never seen Tokyo Ghoul?" I asked and he shook his head. "You ever saw any anime? Read any manga?"

"What's that?" He asked.

"Japanese cartoons. How long have I been living here... never mind. Tokyo Ghoul is this manga turned anime about a world where ghouls exist, and they look just like normal people, but they eat people. So, cannibals. And this one guy, Kaneki Ken, the main character, he turns into a ghoul, but only halfway, which is pretty much unheard of. So he has to deal with his new diet of eating people, since that's all ghouls can eat, and his humanity telling him that murder and cannibalism is wrong, blah blah blah. It's a pretty cool story." I said.

"So... what's the mask?" He asked.

"Oh. In their world, ghouls wear masks to protect their identities when they have to go out to eat. You know the government doesn't exactly like the fact that people are being eaten, so everyone hates ghouls and wants them dead. All ghouls have masks for when they run into the agents who hunt them down, so when they get away, and they do get away most of the time, they can continue to walk around in public and not be recognized. This is Kaneki's mask." I smiled.

I then ripped the tags off and went over to my vanity to try it on.

"And the wig?"

"Kaneki has brown hair, but at the end of season one, he's kidnapped and tortured so much he develops Marie Antoinette Syndrome, where your hair turns white from stress," I said, tightening the leather strap and adjusting the eyepatch. "What do you think?" I asked, my voice a bit muffled, and I looked over.

"I still think its kinky." He said, and I laughed a little, then unzipped the mouth and moved it back over my lips so I can talk clearly.

"I'm definitely going as Kaneki Ken for Halloween, I have to put this mask to use," I said, and began to take it off. "I'm also making you watch season one, starting right now. Prepare yourself." I grinned over at Tate.

So once I had everything sorted, I grabbed my laptop and sat next to him, and we spent the next couple days watching so he'd understand my references.

But when my birthday came was when he got super excited. My mom said she was really sorry that she'd be working late, and I said it was fine. She gave me money to order whatever food I wanted and said my gifts were in the living room.

Tate dragged me downstairs, and I groaned. "Why are you more excited for my birthday than I am?" I asked.

"Why aren't you excited? You're eighteen, Baz! It's a milestone." He took my hands in his as he smiled wide.

I went to the living room, seeing perfectly wrapped gifts on the coffee table, and rolled my eyes at how my mom was like that. Tate went to get us some soda, and I sat down and grabbed the closest one, starting to open it.

She had gotten me tons of makeup, as I expected because there wasn't much else I was truly passionate about. I spent forever just swatching and seeing how pigmented and how sparkly some of these were.

There were also some shoes she got me; booties, heels, and a pair of creepers. And since she knew all about my sweet tooth, there were gourmet chocolate bars, French truffles, and all other sorts of candies.  I texted her a thank you message and went to throw away all the wrapping paper. I flopped on the couch with Tate and grabbed a bag of gummy peach rings.

"How are you?" He asked, and I hummed.

"Pretty happy, I guess. I am a little bummed, though, because I know my grandma will want to call me, and I'll have to be nice to her..." I curled my lip.

"Why?" He asked.

"To stay in the will," I said and he gave a laugh. "She's rich, and I hate her, but somehow I'm her favorite grandkid, so I just suck up to her to get as much as I can out of her before time runs out." I popped another gummy in my mouth.

"Why do you hate her?" He asked, rubbing my arm.

"She's a racist, sexist, old bigot." I hummed, and he hissed, and I just nodded slowly. "She likes to live in the past where it was acceptable to believe that a woman's place was in the kitchen and that if your husband slapped you, you deserved it." I sighed.

"She believes that shit?" He asked and I nodded.

"She tried to teach me that kind of shit growing up. When I was too young to stay home alone and my mom worked full time, I'd stay with my grandparents." I looked up and shook my head with a sigh. "I know how to sew, and I don't mind knowing how to sew, it's a useful skill, but I really mind that I only know how to sew because my grandma told me it would be my duty one day to sew up my husband's socks for him."

Tate had his nose scrunched up, and I let my head fall onto his shoulder, and ate another gummy, offering him the bag, and he took one.

"Anyway, happier topic... um..." I started, but couldn't think of one. Tate gave a little laugh and kissed my hair.

"How are you going to get all this in your vanity?" He asked, and it was my turn to laugh.

"I don't know! It's a struggle." I groaned and slid down to where my head was on his lap. "I want... all the makeup in the world, but I have no room for it at all."

"We could... repurpose one of the rooms to fit it all. Have it be like a walk in closet..." He suggested.

"But for makeup. Tate, you're a genius." I gasped and leaned up and kissed him quickly, and he chuckled at me.

"After lunch, I'm choosing a room, and you're helping me." I smiled and sat up again.

"Now you're excited about something." He chuckled, and I smiled and kissed him again.

"Shut up."


	16. Chapter 16

Tate was hyper on Halloween. I couldn't really blame him, it was the only day a year he could go outside the house.

He didn't have to rush me, though.

Once my makeup was done and I had set it, I slipped on shoes and grabbed my bag and phone and locked up. The grabbed my hand and pulled me along, a great big smile on his face.

"What should we do first? I had a plan in mind, but I kind of forgot it." He said as we walked down the sidewalk, and I smiled at his enthusiasm.

"You're cute, you know?" I said and he smiled down at me.

"Nowhere near as cute as you."

"Sap," I commented.

We ended up at a Starbucks, where I got a shaken sweet tea, and he got some coffee. We sat for a bit with our drinks and talked, and it was just adorable how he was soaking up the outside world.

It made me feel guilty for becoming uncomfortable so fast and wanting to go home.

I tried to keep it hidden, but he ended up noticing as we were walking around a mall.

"You want to go home." He said, and I shook my head, refusing eye contact.

"Nope. I'm good." I hummed.

"Don't lie to me. Come on." He took my hand and tugged me towards the direction of home. I tried to protest, but he wouldn't listen, and I was fighting off guilty tears once we got in. There were these two guys outside just staring at the house, and they followed us in, confusing me.

"Who the hell-" I started.

"Chad and Patrick. Previous owners." The dark haired one with some strong eyebrows gave me a smile. "What did you do to this poor girl?"

"I didn't do anything," Tate said, and I know it wasn't his fault, but I just felt more guilty.

"Bye, boy-toy. Honey, talk to me." He hummed and pulled me into the kitchen with him.

"No, he didn't do anything. It's me." I said, fumbling with my fingers.

"What's you?" He asked.

"I'm an awful person." I frowned.

"No, you're not," Chad said and touched my cheek.

"How would you know?" I furrowed my eyebrows at him.

"Oh, we all pop in now and then, just to check how things are going with the present owners. And oh, the things some of us have seen, the things we've heard." He said and I looked down again.

"Chad became really impressed when you screamed at Tate way back when." Patrick slipped into the kitchen.

"He deserved to be scared shitless." Chad gave a little shrug. "A lot of us were impressed."

He lifted my face again. "But enough of that. Talk to me about today. It's Halloween. It's a great day. Why are you upset?"

"It's Halloween, so you guys aren't stuck in the house today." I sniffed.

"Yeah, and?" Chad shrugged.

"Well, Tate was so excited to get out, and my stupid, introverted, selfish ass..." I sniffed.

"Let me stop you there." Chad held up his hand. "One, you're not stupid or selfish, so cut that shit out. Two, you can't help that you're introverted."

"Well, I'm not just introverted, I'm antisocial. Being out in public fucking wrecks me. And he was so excited, and I didn't want to take that away from him..." I frowned, tearing up a little.

"Babe, no. If you're uncomfortable, you tell me." Tate came over and held my face up.

"It's not fair to you, though..." I frowned.

"I don't care." Tate shook his head. "When you love someone, you put their needs, their feelings, before your own. You not having a breakdown is far more important than me wanting to leave the house for a couple of hours."

"See, Patrick? Even the kid gets it." Chad hissed, and I decided not to question it.

"Come on." Tate took my hand and pulled me up the stairs. "Let's get you up in your room, where it's safe."

Once we were up, I practically crushed him in a hug, almost letting my tears spill.

Later, I did my makeup for Halloween night, putting on sparkly black lipstick and set my face well before sliding on the wig. Both Tate and I were in all black, and he had his hair slicked back and asked me to make him a beautiful skeleton.

I put a base paler than he was all over his face and glued his eyebrows down just a bit to make it easier. I sketched out the skull with black eyeliner, filled in the eye sockets, nose, and cheekbones, then set them with black eyeshadow. I took a tiny brush with black shadow for the teeth and did shadows with gray and a light cool brown. I did a last touch of setting powder and setting spray a few times to really seal it in.

He looked over into a mirror and grinned. "You're good."

"I know." I smiled and he kissed me lightly.

I put on my mask as we walked through the streets, and Tate had his hood up. I soon got an idea, and took his hand, leading him back to the mall. Outside, I took my mask off and shoved it in my bag, then we went inside, me telling him about the burgers, fries, and milkshakes this place I liked had.

We got our food and milkshakes and sat at a back table, and I shyly looked up.

"Shitty food with tons of fat comforts me. It was a trick my mom used to pull to get me to stay out longer, to calm me down." I explained, and Tate nodded slowly.

"You're feeling alright?" He asked as I dipped a fry in my chocolate shake.

"Yeah, I'm good." I smiled.

He promised to take me somewhere where there were no people after we were done eating, and I sipped my milkshake as we walked, incredibly impressed with how he managed to eat one of the greasiest burgers ever and not mess up his makeup. Astounding.

I tossed my cup away and he lead me to this boatyard, and I had an idea of what was going on.

"This is illegal," I whispered and he smiled at me as he walked along the docks.

"Not if we're careful." He said and lead me to a larger boat that was a little ways away from the entrance. He helped me in, and we ducked down into the seating area in the floor where we wouldn't be seen.

I set my bag down and stretched on the cushions, and Tate crawled over me and heatedly began to kiss my neck. I chuckled a little, letting my hand run across his clothed torso.

Tate ground down into me, and I sighed happily, making him look up, and let his lips meet mine.

"I love you." He breathed, making me smile, and I traced his hair.

"I love you." I finally said the words back to him.


	17. Chapter 17

November passed in the blink of an eye, and I quickly finished all my school work for the rest of the year. Thanksgiving and Christmas weren't too exciting, and I basically missed New Year's because Tate got impatient around eleven forty, so he kissed me and kept kissing me. He eventually fingered and ate me out, saying his New Year's resolution was to eat me out every day (I called bullshit), so one of those was happening when midnight came.

But now it was January, and that meant a new medication for me. I told my therapist, and she told me to keep her updated on how it was going.

I finished my work for January quickly and spent a lot of time just sleeping. Tate grew worried, but I said it was fine. He informed me that I now slept through my mom coming home every day, and she now came up to check on me.

It took only three weeks for my mom to get worried.

"Honey, you're hardly eating. I know you never ate much before, but now you're sleeping twenty hours a day, so I know you're not even getting one meal in. Stop taking that. I've called your doctor, you're seeing her in two weeks."

But, for those two weeks, I wasn't just sleeping constantly and not eating, but now I was vomiting, too. You're not supposed to just drop medications suddenly, it never ends well. And well, here I was, paying the price.

Tate was always there to hold my hair back and rub my back, and I couldn't be more thankful.

I wasn't too worried when I went to the doctor's and they took my weight, and I found I was nine pounds lighter. I had plans to gain it all back within the next month. Right after that appointment, we bought a new scale for my bathroom and picked up my new prescription.

I didn't expect results immediately, but I spent the next week just eating all I could without throwing up, trying to gain back weight that way.

But when I stepped on the scale in my underwear a week later and saw I'd dropped four more pounds in a week, I began panicking.

I finally noticed my reflection and went to my room to look at myself in the full-size mirror through blurry eyes.

I could always count two or three ribs on me, but never this many. Not all these ribs, they were never this visible. My hipbones have always been prominent, but they never stuck out this far. I used to have a small gap between my thighs that I'm not even sure counted as a thigh gap... but now there was a large space between my legs.

I fell down onto my carpet, bringing my knees up to my chest as I cried, so disappointed in myself. Disappointed because I didn't want to be this thin, this wasn't healthy. I just wanted to be healthy. And I knew if I brought up my concerns with people, they'd laugh because "you're thin, you should be happy" or some bullshit like that.

I needed people to understand that skinny didn't equal healthy, and I certainly wasn't healthy.

I only now noticed the emptiness in my stomach, which only made me sadder because I know if I wanted to fill it, my body would make me want to throw it back up. It's gotten to the point where I could take five or six bites of something and feel sick, unable to eat anymore.

Like I wanted to live that way.

"Baby?" Tate's voice sounded when he came into my room. "Babe, what's wrong?" He knelt by me, lifting my face to wipe my tears.

"I'm sick." I cried and he lifted me up and carried me to my bed, where he sat with me and held me.

"I've been trying to gain the weight I lost back..." I sniffed.

"And?" Tate rubbed my back.

"I only lost more... I don't know how..." I broke off crying again. "I don't want to be this thin. I look disgusting. I feel disgusting."

"Baz, baby, no." Tate lifted my face again. "It'll be alright. We'll get you healthy again. But don't you ever think for a second that you're disgusting."

When my mom came home, I told her, and she looked a bit disappointed, but that was it.

"I'm going to the store, be back in a bit." She grabbed her purse, walking to the door, and I was utterly confused.

"What?" I followed her. "That's it? You're not even going to act concerned?"

"I won't be worried until you drop under a hundred pounds, Baz." She shook her head.

"I'm one oh one! I'm almost there, and I'm not gaining shit back!" I said, trying to get her to see how worried I was.

"That's why I'm going to the store. You can't eat, but you still drink a lot. I'm getting nutrition shakes and premium ice cream. That should help a bit." Mom nodded, and I just stared. She turned back and sighed, staring at me.

"Baz, honey, listen. If you drop under a hundred, we may just have to take you to a hospital where they feed you nutrients through an IV." She said, and I had no idea what to say to that. "Until then, all you can do is eat and not get sick. If you even catch a cold, you will die."

And she left with that. I remained standing in the hallway, staring at the door, just quietly crying.

"Baby, hey. Come here." I heard Tate's soft voice, and I closed my eyes as he pulled me into a hug. I hugged him back and felt him kiss my hair.

"You're stronger than that. That's not going to happen. I won't let it." He promised. Tate lead me up to my room and lied behind me on my bed, arm around my waist, fingers laced with mine. My back to his front, his breath on my neck.

"We'll get through this. Promise." He murmured.


	18. Chapter 18

I drank chocolate milkshakes of nutrition shakes mixed with premium ice cream for the extra calories on the daily now. The filled me up rather fast, making it near impossible for me to eat anything solid after drinking one.

My doctor didn't take me too seriously, which pissed me off to no end.

So now I was in the living room, trying my hardest not to break things as I fumed.

"Baz. Baby. Calm down." Tate was trying to get me to chill.

"No. She laughed in my face. She fucking laughed in my face! Right in front of me!" I said, exasperated. "A medical professional who practices fucking modern medicine laughed in front of me! What the fuck kind of-!"

I cut myself off with a groan. "Why is no one else as concerned about this as I am? I am eighteen years old, I am five foot fucking seven, I should be somewhere between one twenty and one thirty, but no. I am ninety-four fucking pounds, and nobody thinks that's just, you know, a bit worrying?" I ranted.

"She fucking laughed. What kind of doctor laughs when their patient brings up a concern?" I huffed and plopped down into a chair. I took a pillow from behind my back and hugged it to my chest, now quiet.

Tate came over and knelt by me, taking one of my hands in his.

"I can feel it," I said quietly.

"Feel what?" Tate asked.

"How empty I am inside. I feel sick, and I just... I don't know what to do about it." I let my shoulders fall in a limp shrug.

I glanced over at Tate and bit my lip. "Do you still think I'm pretty?"

He reached up with his other hand and stroked my cheek. "I'll always think you're beautiful."

"How?" I asked softly, wondering how he could ever think that.

"Because you're not just beautiful physically." He said, and I smiled a little and leaned down, touching my forehead to his.

"You're much more than I deserve." I sighed.

"Funny, I think the same about you." He smiled at me and pecked my lips softly. "Tell me how I can make you feel better, baby. Even just for a little while."

I held my arms out, and Tate brought me into a hug. He picked me up after a little while, holding me up by my thighs, and I clutched on, my tears staining his shoulder as he carried me to my room. We sat together on my bed, Tate letting me get my feelings out, helping me feel better.

Once I was feeling better, I tried my very best to keep up my mood. I changed my hair to try and keep me motivated, so now instead of silver, it was a pastel rose gold color. I even went out and got second holes in my ears.

I would've gotten a tattoo, too, but mom stopped me, as she knew I only started modifying myself when I had reached my last straw. I knew she was right, so I chilled out even though I was just itching to make more changes.

My doctor had scheduled a procedure to be done with another doctor, an endoscopy. I warned Tate about what I'd be like when I came back, loopy as fuck from the propofol.

"I cried a lot when I woke up after having my wisdom teeth taken out, so I'll probably be crying when I come back, at least until it wears off," I explained and he promised he'd take good care of me.

He gave me a kiss when I woke up that morning, getting comfy in some joggers and a T-shirt, tying my hair up in a bun, and told me to come back safe.

So mom drove me to the office, and I hated filling out all the paperwork myself but was pretty chill when I was talking to a nurse who was preparing my IV. The rest of everything was kind of a blur, and when I woke up in a different room, I wasn't crying as hard as I was two years ago, the last time I went under.

Another nurse came by and handed me a tissue, and checked on my vitals and shit, and asked if I wanted something to drink, water or soda. I asked for a soda, which was surprising because the last time I could only have water. So she brought me a Styrofoam cup of Pepsi or something, and took my IV out, putting gauze over it and putting medical tape on to keep it on my arm.

She wheeled me out to where my mom was waiting in the car to drive me home, and the weirdest thing happened. I began switching between laughing and crying, which confused the hell out of me.

She helped me inside and went to deal with something in the kitchen, and Tate appeared to help me upstairs as I was wiping my tears.

"Fuck, I'm a mess." I giggled as I sat on the edge of my bed, then just fell back and lied there horizontally, still alternating between giggling uncontrollably and crying my eyes out.

I calmed down a few minutes later and just stared at the ceiling, and heard Tate swear from where he sat beside me.

"Shit, that is a lot of blood." He gasped and I looked at him to see what he was staring at, then looked at my arm, where I had completely bled through the gauze and it was dripping down my arm.

"Fuck." I immediately sat up. "That's never happened before... um..." I tried to think and just got up and went down to find my mom, trying not to drip blood everywhere.

I found her in the kitchen, and she turned to look at me. "Jesus, Baz. What happened?"

"I don't know! I was just lying there and it just happened." I stuttered a little. "I never bleed from needles. Never." I tried as she got a paper towel and folded it, getting the bloody gauze off of me and having me hold the towel to my arm.

"You probably don't have enough Vitamin C in you to heal wounds. Stay here while I find gauze and tape." She said and went off.

"What?" I just breathed and just stood there, holding my arm. Tate joined me again and pressed a kiss to my head to try and comfort me.

When my mom came back, I couldn't see him, but I could still feel him as he held my hips, his lips just resting on the back of my head. Mom unwrapped the sterilized gauze and had me throw away the paper towel, and I held the gauze as she taped it to my arm.

"How do you feel?" She asked, and I blinked heavily.

"Dizzy." I hummed.

"Sit." Mom said and Tate pulled me back and got me to sit down, his arms around me and his chest to my back, helping me not fall over. Mom got some ice cream out of the fridge and slid it over to me with a spoon.

"Eat up." She said.

"I just wanna sleep." I sighed, blinking again.

"Not until you get some sugar in you." Mom gave me a look, which made me eat a little. Southern moms had looks that made your blood run cold. They never needed to raise their voices.

I ate to where I didn't feel dizzy anymore, and then mom let me go up to get some sleep. Tate lead me up, becoming visible once it was safe, and promised to stay with me.


	19. Chapter 19

As I slept, I dreamed, which I found odd because I rarely dreamed.

There was this tall blonde woman, her curly hair done up, and in a black dress like something you'd see out of the Great Gatsby. She looked a bit sad, though there was a little smile on her dark burgundy painted lips.

"Oh, sweetheart, look at you." She sighed, and came over and took my hands.

"Who are you? What is this?" I looked around, but she made me look at her and only her.

"You're fighting a losing battle, lovely. It's about time to give in." She spoke sweetly.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Do you really want to suffer any longer?" She asked and I fell quiet. "You don't have to feel sick, feel empty anymore. Oh, sweet Basil, let it go. Let it all go." She smiled and rubbed my cheek with her thumb.

I breathed out slowly, then opened my eyes. I was in my room, but for some reason, I was standing. I looked around and was very confusing at what I was seeing.

I was looking down at my bed, and I saw myself and Tate asleep together on it. He was holding, and my arms were curled up by my head. I had bled through the gauze again, and the blood had pooled on the sheets, and I realized what had happened, but I didn't want to think about it.

I turned from the room, trying to collect my thoughts, trying not to panic as I walked down the hall.

"Honey, hey." A familiar voice said, and I jumped and turned, seeing Chad and Patrick. "Hey, calm down." Chad held my arms.

"I'm dead?" My voice cracked.

"I'm afraid so." He said, and I looked down, trying to keep a grip on myself. But I couldn't stop my lip wobbling or my eyes filling if I tried.

"But my mom..." I sniffed, looking down the hall to her room. "She's going to be so heartbroken... I'm all she has." I let the tears slip out of my eyes.

"What if she tries to hurt herself?" My voice cracked again. "What if she..."

Chad shushed me, and I stopped myself, closing my eyes.

"Let me." A female voice said, and arms wrapped around me. At this point, I didn't care who it was, I hugged them back.

"It's all going to be okay, sweetheart." A woman said, and she stroked my hair down my back. "Your mom's a strong woman. She'll be just fine."

She pulled back then and put a hand on my stomach, and she smiled at me, and I recognized her to be the woman from my dream.

"Feel that?" She asked, brushing my tears away with her other hand. "Doesn't feel so empty now, does it?"

I looked down at myself and sniffed, realizing she was right. I didn't feel so sick anymore. I saw the gauze on my arm and peeled it off, seeing the needle mark, but no more blood.

I sniffed and tried to gather myself. I looked up, then furrowed my brows as I had a thought.

"I'm stuck with pink hair for all eternity? I don't even like pink that much." I sighed, and Chad laughed, and I smiled a little myself.

"Baz?" I heard Tate call, and I looked up and saw him down the hall. He saw me, then ran over and hugged me tightly.

"You scared the shit out of me." He breathed in relief, and I hugged him back. I started to see the silver lining of this shitty situation. I had someone who loved me who I could stay with forever, and I could find a new family in the numerous spirits that were in the house.

I pulled back and wiped the last of the tears from my eyes, and Tate looked at me in worry.

"Before I forget, I have to hide some things before my mom... you know, finds me," I said, and them a smile before going to find a box big enough for the shit I wanted to keep.

"You're adjusting well, I'd say," Tate said as we went back to my room, and I packed my laptop, phone, and cords and chargers for them first.

"Do I really have a choice?" I shrugged and went to the bookshelves. I packed my Joker comics, as I collected them, and all my favorite books. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was confused because my face was perfectly made up.

"Yeah, we're not really sure why that happens." Tate shrugged, and I added that to my list of things I just wasn't going to question.

When I had everything I wanted to keep (including the dildo, because I couldn't let my mom find that), I lifted the box. "Know any good hiding places?"

"Yeah, come on." He nodded and we left my room, making sure to close the door, as it was getting close to sunrise, and he led me to a room all the way across the house, and I already knew my mom wouldn't check for shit over here.

Once I slid the box into the closet and closed it, I turned back to Tate and sighed.

"Feeling okay?" He took my hands in his.

I thought for a moment, then just leaned my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes. "Tired. But I'll be alright."

"Of course you will." He said and kissed my hair.

"Do spirits need to eat?" I asked.

"Nope."

"Sleep?"

"No, but we can." He hummed.

"I'm guessing bathing is a no, too?"

"Mhm. But you know what spirits can do?" He said in my ear.

"What?" I smiled a little.

"Fuck." He hissed and bit my ear, making giggle.

"I just died, Tate. Have some respect." I laughed, pushing him back lightly, and he laughed as well, still holding onto my waist.

"How long after someone dies is it acceptable to screw their spirit?" He asked, making me laugh again.

"I dunno, but I'll get the Ouija board when I do." I grinned and turned to walk out, and he groaned.

"You're awful. That was awful, Baz." Tate smiled at me.

"Yeah, well, get used to it, because now you have to put up with me for all eternity." I threw him a grin, and he rolled his eyes. "Hey, I know I'm not funny. You don't have to tell me that. But I like to think I'm funny."

"You're lucky I love you," Tate said, and I just smiled as I walked down the stairs.

"Love you, too, asshole."


	20. Chapter 20

Tate kept me on the other side of the house so I couldn't hear my mom cry.

Constance ended up coming over and found us. She gave me a sweet smile.

"I just got done looking at your baby pictures with your momma." She sighed.

"She didn't show you middle school me, did she?" I asked, and her chuckle made me groan.

"You were a cute kid, though." She said. "I have half a mind to show Tate."

Tate grinned, and I begged her not to. "Forget her showing me. I'll find them myself." He said and rushed out.

Constance smiled at me, and I realized she just wanted him out to talk to me.

"Passed in your sleep, huh?" She sat on the edge of the bed I sat on.

"I didn't feel a thing. I thought I was dreaming." I sighed.

"And how do you feel now?" She asked.

"Better. Not sick." I nodded.

She touched my arm. "How is she?" I asked.

"She's mourning, but strong. Says she's moving to Florida to stay with one of her brothers." She said and I nodded. "She says your family is flying in for a viewing before she cremates your body. Wants to keep you with her, she says."

I nodded slowly then. "You'll be there for the viewing? To insult my family?" I asked.

"Oh, of course, darling." She smiled.

"Thanks." I grinned.

When the viewing day was here, I didn't listen to Tate about staying away. I wanted to see how it would go.

The entire downstairs was decked out in green and purple, with some black here and there. I grinned, then saw some of my family was already here. Some friends from back home, too.

"Whoever did her eyeliner did too well of a job. Baz wishes she did her wings that well." One of my best friends from back home said, and I grinned.

"Bitch," I sighed and Tate chuckled as he brought his arms around me from where he stood behind me.

"These colors... Sharon, they clash. Who chose this?" My grandma said with distaste.

"They were Baz's favorite colors, mom." My mom said, keeping a smile on, but you could tell she was mad.

"This is why she didn't let you plan anything, grandma. You don't know what Baz liked." My cousin said.

Tate and I sat on the stairs, overlooking everything, and I told him about each and every person in the room. After a little while, Chad, Patrick, and Nora joined us.

After an hour or so, everyone gathered in the living room where a disc was put in the TV, and my mom said my best friend from back home, who was a mass communications expert, made a video of my life. She hit play and turned the volume up, and a piano note sounded. Then a baby picture of when I was just a few days old showed, and I recognized the song that was playing.

"Oh, I should kill her for playing Cancer." I stared at my friend but was also a little impressed at how she slipped that in there.

Pictures of me growing up flew by, and the song replayed a couple of times, so the tune was pretty much stuck in everyone's heads.

Then, at some of the most recent pictures taken for prom (the pictures being only me, of course, none of my date), the screen went dark as the music stopped, then a video began to play.

I recognized it right off the bat. It was a video I took of her and I singing along with our favorite albums in the back seat of my mom's car as she drove us to Pride Fest, which we went to every summer when I lived in Virginia. In this particular part of the video, we were singing along to Cancer, the piano song that was playing over and over for the whole video.

_"Now turn away_   
_Because I'm awful just to see_   
_And all my hair's abandoned_   
_All my body_   
_All my agony_   
_Know that I will never marry_   
_Baby, I'm just soggy from the chemo_   
_I'm counting down the days to go_   
_It just ain't living_   
_And I just hope you know_   
_That if you say goodbye today_   
_I'll ask you to be true_   
_Because the hardest part of this_   
_Is leaving you_   
_Yes the hardest part of this_   
_Is leaving you..."_

The video cut off, and some people were wiping tears, others clapped.

"That was cute." Tate hummed in my ear where he held me.

"That was awful, I have no idea what you're talking about." I smiled. I then saw they were preparing to make speeches.

"No. Nope. I'm out. I can't listen to sappy as shit speeches." I turned to leave.

"Why not?" Chad asked.

"They're always cliche as fuck." I hummed, and Tate followed me back upstairs.

"I thought you'd love a roomful of people talking about how much they'd miss you." He hummed.

"Half of them are liars. And besides, most of the speeches are things like, 'she will sorely be missed,' 'everybody loved her,' 'she was taken too soon,' and bullshit like that. It's all the same stuff over and over again. No one's creative anymore." I sat down on the bed, and Tate by me.

"Alright. Let me get creative for a minute." He hummed and ran his teeth over his lips as he thought, and I gave a giggle.

"Baz was... is... the most beautiful girl on Earth. But she's also too fucking stubborn to accept it or admit it." Tate started, and I was already laughing.

"Sh, I'm making a speech." He grinned and put his hand over my mouth. "I can't say I'll miss her, mainly because we're both dead and stuck in this house together, so I'll see her every day." He then smiled, then stared at the ceiling.

"Baz makes the most awful jokes, but she is one of the funniest people I know. She drives me insane without even trying. She's a fucking mess, but I love her all the same..." He hummed.

I smiled behind his hand, and took his wrist in my hand and moved his hand as he continued to talk. "She is... what are you doing?" He asked as I put his middle and ring fingers in my mouth and sucked, running my tongue over and between them.

I just glanced at him, seeing a faint blush on his cheeks and the tip of his nose as he stared at me.

"Had to get you to shut up somehow," I mumbled with a shrug.

"You want something to suck on that badly?" He grinned.

"Yeah, your tongue," I said and straddled his hips, leaning over to kiss him deeply, and he undid my jeans and slid his hand in to work on me as I worked our mouths.


	21. Chapter 21

It took less than a week for my mom to move out of the house. It was hard for me not to cry then because I knew I'd never see her again. Ever.

Tate and I spent every day together, which I sometimes worried would wear us out or make us tire of each other, and I think Tate worried I'd get too irritated of him. But when we spent days in total silence just by each other's side, as comfortable as can be, I knew we'd be just fine.

Those were the days where I knew our love was strong. Sure, I spent days and days reading to him and teaching him the symbolism and meanings of my favorite books, running over the best and most meaningful lines, and he had me listen to records over and over and went over every lyrics' meaning, and that's what made us stronger. But days where we did absolutely nothing but just exist side by side? That's what proved we were strong.

I thought today was going to be one of those days as we lied together in the bedroom we claimed as ours. There wasn't much to it; a bed with some sheets, a dresser, a couple armchairs, and a window. My favorite part about it that made me fall in love with this room was the window with a torn curtain. Tate said we could replace it with a better curtain, but I refused.

He thought I was insane until I explained why one morning.

"That window faces east, so every morning when the sun comes up, it shines right there. And that tear in the curtain lets it peek through in these rays that go all the way across the room. And the light catches on all the dust in the air, and... I just think it's beautiful." I smiled as I stared.

And now it was morning again, and I sat up the second the light began to shine, and just watched the light fill the room.

After an hour or so, Tate sat up behind me, his lips at my shoulder as he slipped the strap of my tank top down my arm.

"You're right," He hummed, his soft lips brushing against my skin. "It is beautiful."

With that, he pressed a kiss to my shoulder, then moved my hair out of the way as he kissed slowly and softly up my neck and behind my ear. I smiled a little, falling in love with the softness.

His hand slipped the other strap down and kissed up that side as his hands slid up under my shirt, making me giggle a little.

"What are you up to, Tate?" I asked as he kissed the nape of my neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" He mumbled against my skin.

"No," I smiled and he resumed his kisses. "But I don't get any warning?"

His lips left my skin and I turned around to face him, now sitting between his legs. Tate was quiet and his fingertips stroked my face, trailing down my neck and catching on my collarbones.

"I love you," He said. "I want to show you."

I blinked, then smiled. "Okay," I nodded, and he leaned forward and caught my lips, his hands gentle on my skin as my shirt slid up higher and higher.

I soon got impatient and broke our kiss to take it off, then get his off him. I met his lips again, kissing him like I needed to breathe, as cliche as it was. But that's how I felt.

As Tate's hands roamed my skin and continued to undress us, I thought back to when I was alive, before I became this comfortable with Tate. Before him, I'd only ever kissed one boy, and I don't even remember what that felt like. So when I got curious on how it felt to be kissed, I'd look up gifs and videos of people kissing and just tried to recreate the feeling. But now that I kissed Tate, and could kiss him whenever I wanted, what I imagined wasn't anywhere near the real thing.

And intimacy was a whole other thing. I'd never, ever, been close with anyone before. Aside from all the masturbating I did, I was as virgin as they came. Taking my clothes off near someone was one thing, but taking my underwear off and revealing myself fully to another person? That was far too much for me to handle.

But then Tate stepped in, and yeah, he broke my trust and was an absolute dickhole cunt for a bit, but he slowly earned it back. He proved himself worthy enough of my trust that I didn't mind revealing myself to him at all.

And there was the fact that he found me beautiful. He thought I was beautiful and he tells me he thinks so often. I sometimes teared up because I have no idea why someone would ever find a mess like me beautiful. But here Tate was, looking absolutely awestruck as I was in front of him. He treated every time he saw me for the first time, and it made me feel so many things.

I could only pray I made him feel the same things he made me feel.

Tate was working his fingers into me, and he was above me as I was on my back. I ran my hands over his skin and into his hair, moaning as he deeply kissed me.

"Tate, please." I sighed when we broke apart.

He pushed his boxers down and rubbed himself against me, making me bite my lip, ready for him to just push in and take me already.

"Tate...!" I whined and heard him chuckle, and he pecked my lips.

"You want me that bad, Baz, baby?" He smirked.

"You don't?" I pouted, teasing him just a little.

"Oh, baby, I do." He nodded and kissed me again, starting to push in, and I gasped at the stretch I felt. He was a bit thicker than my dildo, after all.

"I always want you." He hummed, pressing kisses to my face as he kept going. "I'll always want you, Baz."

I sighed, letting my eyes close when he was finally fully in me, and they burned a little with tears. Not because I was in pain, I think.

"Are you okay, baby?" Tate asked softly, kissing the corners of my eyes where some tears leaked.

"I'm happy." I smiled and opened my eyes to see him, blinking through the blur. "Shit, I'm sorry." I nervously laughed and tried to wipe my eyes.

"You're fine, Baz. I'm glad you're happy." Tate kissed my nose. "I'm happy, too." He gave me a smile and started to slowly move, going faster when he saw I was alright.

I tried my best to keep my eyes on him, interested in how his hair fell over his eyes, and how pleasured his face looked at certain thrusts into me. It was hard though because I had such an urge to close my eyes and let my head fall back.

Tate shifted my hips for a better angle, and my mouth fell open in a moan on the first thrust. On the second or third, my eyes closed, and I tried to bite my lip and hold the moans back.

"No, no, baby. Let me hear 'em. You know I love your voice." Tate hummed and kissed down my neck.

I moaned out for him, his name somewhere near the end as I ran my nails across his shoulder blades.

Tate thrust into me a little harder, his hand now at my clit, making me tremble.

"I want you to come for me. I want you to show me you love me, that no one else is on your mind. No one will take you from me." He breathed before kissing me.

I laced my fingers into his hair and kept him in place, never wanting his lips to leave mine. He got me closer and closer, his thrusts a little sloppier, and I panted.

"I'm the only girl you think of?" I breathed, making us part.

"Yes." Tate nodded breathlessly.

"You really love me?" I whispered.

"More than anything." He swore, his forehead on mine, and my moans got higher and quicker as I got close. "Come, baby. Come for me."

My thighs shook, and I tensed around him as I came, and felt him tense only seconds later. He pulled back, breathing heavily, and I remained to lie there, also breathing heavily, and blissed out as I let my eyes closed and a smile make its way onto my face.

Tate turned me around so my head was on the pillows, and he lied with me, his arms around me and holding me close to him.

"I love you." He breathed and placed a kiss on my neck.

"I love you." I smiled and let my fingers run over the skin on his arm and hands, happy as can be.


End file.
